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Lux  mundi 


LUX  MUNDI 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/luxmundiseriesofOOunse 


LUX  MUNDI 


a  Series  of  UrtuOtes 

IN  THE 


RELIGION  OF  THE  INCARNATION 


By 


EDITED 

/ 

CHARLES  GORE,  M.  A. 

PRINCIPAL  OF  PUSEY  HOUSE 


FELLOW  OF  TRINITY  COLLEGE,  OXFORD 


FROM  THE  FIFTH  ENGLISH  EDITION 


NEW  YORK 

JOHN  W.  LOVELL  COMPANY 

142  to  150  Worth  Street 


This  issue  of  LUX  MUNDI  is  published  in 
the  United  States  under  an  arrangement  by  which  the 
author  is  paid  a  royalty  on  all  copies  sold . 


Hnibcrsttg  lirrss: 

John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


ESSAYS  AND  CONTRIBUTORS. 


1.  Faith.  y 

Rev.  H.  S.  Holland,  M.  A.,  Canon  of  St.  Paul’s,  sometime 
Senior  Student  of  Christ  Church. 

2.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God. 

v'  _ 

Rev.  Aubrey  Moore,  M.  A.,  Hon.  Canon  of  Christ  Church, 
Tutor  of  Magdalen  and  Keble  Colleges. 

3.  The  Problem  of  Pain  :  its  bearing  on  Faith  in  God. 

Rev.  J.  R.r  Illingworth,  M.  A.,  Rector  of  Longworth,  some¬ 
time  Fellow  of  Jesus  and  Tutor  of  Keble  Colleges. 

4.  The  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ. 

Rev.  E.  S.’ Talbot,  D.  D.,  Vicar  of  Leeds,  sometime  Warden 
of  Keble  College. 

el  The  Incarnation  in  relation  to  Development. 

S 

Rev.  J.  R.  Illingworth. 

6.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma. 

Rev.  R.  C.  Moberly,  M.  A.,  Vicar  of  Great  Budworth,  some¬ 
time  Senior  Student  of  Christ  Church. 


7.  The  Atonement. 

'Z 

Rev.  and  Hon.  Arthur  Lyttelton,  M.  A.,  Master  of  Sehvyn 
College,  Cambridge,  sometime  Tutor  of  Keble  College. 


VI 


Essays  and  Contributors. 


8.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration. 

•/ 

Rev.  C.  Gore,  M.  A.,  Principal  of  Pusey  House,  Fellow  of 
Trinity  College. 

9.  The  Church. 

Rev.  W.  Lock,  M.  A.,  Sub-Warden  of  Keble  and  Fellow  of 
Magdalen  Colleges.  * 

10.  Sacraments. 

/ 

^  ■  # 

Rev.  F.  Paget,  D.  D.,  Canon  of  Christ  Church,  and  Regius 
Professor  of  Pastoral  Theology. 

11.  Christianity  and  Politics. 

Rev.  W.  J.  H.v  Campion,  M.  A.,  Tutor  of  Keble  College. 

12.  Christian  Ethics. 

v 

Rev.  R.  L.  Ottley,  M.  A.,  Vice-Principal  of  Cuddesdon,  late 
Senior  Student  of  Christ  Church. 


PREFACE. 


1.  This  volume  is  primarily  due  to  a  set  of  circum¬ 
stances  which  exist  no  longer.  The  writers  found  them¬ 
selves  at  Oxford  together  between  the  years  1875-1885, 
engaged  in  the  common  work  of  University  education; 
and  compelled  for  their  own  sake,  no  less  than  that  of 
others,  to  attempt  to  put  the  Catholic  faith  into  its  right 
relation  to  modern  intellectual  and  moral  problems.  Such 
common  necessity  and  effort  led  to  not  infrequent  meet¬ 
ings,  in  which  a  common  body  of  thought  and  sentiment, 
and  a  common  method  of  commending  the  faith  to  the 
acceptance  of  others,  tended  to  form  itself.  We,  who  once 
enjoyed  this  happy  companionship,  are  now  for  the  most 
part  separated.  But  at  least  some  result  of  our  temporary 
association  remains,  which  it  is  hoped  may  justify  and 
explain  the  present  volume. 

2.  For  this  collection  of  essays  represents  an  attempt 
on  behalf  of  the  Christian  Creed  in  the  way  of  explanation. 
We  are  sure  that  Jesus  Christ  is  still  and  will  continue  to 
be  the  ‘  Light  of  the  Word.’  We  are  sure  that  if  men 
can  rid  themselves  of  prejudices  and  mistakes  (for  which, 
it  must  be  said,  the  Church  is  often  as  responsible  as  they), 
and  will  look  afresh  at  what  the  Christian  faith  really  means, 
they  will  find  that  it  is  as  adequate  as  ever  to  interpret  life 


viii  Preface. 

and  knowledge  in  its  several  departments,  and  to  impart 
not  less  intellectual  than  moral  freedom.  But  we  are  con¬ 
scious  also  that  if  the  true  meaning  of  the  faith  is  to  be 
made  sufficiently  conspicuous  it  needs  disencumbering,  re¬ 
interpreting,  explaining.  We  can  but  quote  in  this  sense 
a  distinguished  French  writer  who  has  often  acted  as  an 
inspiration  to  many  of  us.  Pere  Gratry  felt  painfully  that 
the  dogmas  of  the  Church  were  but  as  an  ‘  unknown 
tongue  ’  to  many  of  the  best  of  his  compatriots.  ‘  It  is 
not  enough,’  he  said,  ‘  to  utter  the  mysteries  of  the  Spirit, 
the  great  mysteries  of  Christianity,  in  formulas,  true  before 
God,  but  not  understood  of  the  people.  The  apostle  and 
the  prophet  are  precisely  those  who  have  the  gift  of  inter¬ 
preting  these  obscure  and  profound  formulas  for  each  man 
and  each  age.  To  translate  into  the  common  tongue  the 
mysterious  and  sacred  language  .  .  .  ;  to  speak  the  word  of 
God  afresh  in  each  age,  in  accordance  with  both  the  nov¬ 
elty  of  the  age  and  the  eternal  antiquity  of  the  truth, — 
this  is  what  St.  Paul  means  by  interpreting  the  unknown 
tongue.  But  to  do  this,  the  first  condition  is  that  a  man 
should  appreciate  the  times  he  lives  in.  “  Hoc  autem 
tempus  quare  non  probatis  ?  ”  ’  1 

3.  We  have  written  then  in  this  volume,  not  as  ‘guessers 
at  truth,’  but  as  servants  of  the  Catholic  Creed  and  Church, 
aiming  only  at  interpreting  the  faith  we  have  received.  On 
the  other  hand,  we  have  written  with  the  conviction  that 
the  epoch  in  which  we  live  is  one  of  profound  transforma¬ 
tion,  intellectual  and  social,  abounding  in  new  needs,  new 
points  of  view,  new  questions ;  and  certain  therefore  to  in¬ 
volve  great  changes  in  the  outlying  departments  of  theology, 


1  Gratry,  Henri  Perreyve,  Paris,  1880,  p.  162. 


IX 


Preface. 

where  it  is  linked  on  to  other  sciences,  and  to  necessitate 
some  general  restatement  of  its  claim  and  meaning. 

This  is  to  say  that  theology  must  take  a  new  develop¬ 
ment.  We  grudge  the  name  ‘  development/  on  the  one 
hand,  to  anything  which  fails  to  preserve  the  type  of  the 
Christian  Creed  and  the  Christian  Church  ;  for  develop¬ 
ment  is  not  innovation,  it  is  not  heresy  :  on  the  other  hand, 
we  cannot  recognize  as  the  true  ‘development  of  Christian 
doctrine  ’  a  movement  which  means  merely  an  intensifica¬ 
tion  of  a  current  tendency  from  within,  a  narrowing  and 
hardening  of  theology  by  simply  giving  it  greater  definite¬ 
ness  or  multiplying  its  dogmas. 

The  real  development  of  theology  is  rather  the  process 
in  which  the  Church,  standing  firm  in  her  old  truths,  enters 
into  the  apprehension  of  the  new  social  and  intellectual 
movements  of  each  age:  and  because  ‘the  truth  makes 
her  free/  is  able  to  assimilate  all  new  material,  to  welcome 
and  give  its  place  to  all  new  knowledge,  to  throw  herself 
into  the  sanctification  of  each  new  social  order,  bringing: 
forth  out  of  her  treasures  things  new  and  old,  and  showing 
again  and  again  her  power  of  witnessing  under  changed 
conditions  to  the  catholic  capacity  of  her  faith  and  life. 

4.  To  such  a  development  these  studies  attempt  to  be  a 
contribution.  They  will  be  seen  to  cover,  more  or  less,  the 
area  of  tne  Christian  faith  in  its  natural  order  and  sequence 
of  parts  ;  but  the  intention  is  not  to  offer  complete  theologi¬ 
cal  treatises,  or  controversial  defences  of  religious  truths, 
it  is  rather  to  present  positively  the  central  ideas  and  prin¬ 
ciples  of  religion,  in  the  light  of  contemporary  thought  and 
current  problems.  The  only  one  of  the  essays  in  fact 
which  has  any  degree  of  formal  completeness  is  that  on 
Christian  Ethics,  —  a  subject  on  which  the  absence  of 


X 


Preface. 


systematic  books  of  a  genuine  English  growth  seems  to 
justify  a  more  detailed  treatment. 

5.  The  main  omissions  of  which  we  are  conscious  are 
due  to  want  of  space.  For  instance,  we  should  have  been 
very  glad  to  attempt  a  separate  treatment  of  the  subject  of 
sin  ;  though  we  hope  the  line  that  would  be  taken  about  it 
has  been  sufficiently  indicated  by  more  than  one  writer.1 
Again,  we  have  left  aside  any  detailed  discussion  of  his¬ 
torical  evidences  ;  but  it  will  be  seen  that  our  attempt  has 
been  so  to  present  the  principles  of  the  Christian  faith  as 
to  suggest  the  point  of  view  from  which  evidences  are  in¬ 
telligible,  and  from  which  they  will,  it  is  firmly  believed, 
be  found  satisfactory.  Once  more,  if  we  have  not  found 
room  for  a  treatment  of  miracles,  at  least  we  hope  that  the 
Church’s  conception  of  God,  as  He  manifests  Himself  in 
nature  and  in  grace,  which  we  have  endeavored  to  express, 
will  at  once  acquit  us  of  any  belief  in  capricious  ‘violations 
of  law;’  and  will  also  suggest  a  view  of  the  world  as  dis¬ 
ordered  by  sin  and  crying  out  for  redemption,  which  will 
make  it  intelligible  that  ‘  miracles  ’  should  appear,  not  as 
violating  law,  but  as  a  necessary  element  in  its  restoration 
as  well  as  its  completer  exhibition;  contrary,  not  to  the 
fundamental  order  of  the  Divine  working,  but  only  to  a 
superficial  or  mechanical  view  of  it,  or  to  a  view  which  sin 
has  distorted  or  preoccupation  with  physical  science  has 
unduly  narrowed. 

6.  It  only  remains  to  explain  that  we  have  written,  not 
as  mere  individuals,  but  as  ministers,  under  common  con¬ 
ditions,  of  a  common  faith.  This  unity  of  conviction  has 
enabled  us  freely  to  offer  and  accept  mutual  criticism  and 

1  See  pp.  173-175.  243-244.  265-268,  398-399. 


XI 


Preface. 

suggestion  ;  so  that  without  each  of  us  professing  such 
responsibility  for  work  other  than  his  own,  as  would  have 
involved  undue  interference  with  individual  method,  we  do 
desire  this  volume  to  be  the  expression  of  a  common  mind 
and  a  common  hope. 

C.  G. 


Pusey  House, 

Michaelmas ,  1SS9. 


PREFACE  TO  FIFTH  EDITION. 

The  author  of  the  essay  ‘  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspira¬ 
tion  ’  has  endeavored  to  obviate  further  misunderstanding 
of  his  meaning  on  one  important  point  by  rewriting  some 
sentences  on  pp.  300-301,  in  accordance  with  the  Corrigejicia 
inserted  in  the  Fourth  Edition. 


‘ 


SYNOPSIS  OF  CONTENTS. 


i. 

Faith. 

PAGE 

I.  Faith;  its  situation;  its  behavior;  challenged  by  novel  experi¬ 
ences;  alarmed  at  its  own  perplexity .  3-5 

Y et  why  alarmed  ? .  5 

Perplexity  consistent  with  faith,  when  faith  is  stripped  of  its 
habitual  corroborations  from  without :  and  summoned  to  sub¬ 
mit  itself  to  internal  observation . 5-7 

For  faith  is  an  elemental  act  of  personal  self:  and,  therefore, 
like  all  such  acts,  e.  g.,  of  thought ;  will ;  love  ;  is,  necessarily, 
incapable  of  offering  itself  for  scientific  examination  ....  7-9 

II.  What  is  faith  ? . 9,  10 

The  motion  in  us  of  our  sonship  in  the  Father  ;  the  conscious 
recognition,  and  realization,  of  our  inherent  filial  adhesion  to 

God . 1 1— 13 

This  intimacy  of  relationship  is  capable  of  indefinite  growth,  of 

‘  supernatural  ’  development .  13 

The  history  of  faith  is  the  gradual  discovery  of  this  increasing 

intimacy . 13-15 

The  demand  for  faith  is  ( a )  universal ,  for  all  are  sons  ;  (b)  urgent , 
as  appealing  to  a  vital  fact;  (c)  tolerant ,  as  reposing  on  existent 

fact . 15-18 

II.  Faith,  an  act  of  basal  personality,  at  the  root  of  all  out-flowing 
activities  ;  is  present,  as  animating  force,  within  all  natural 
faculties.  When  summoned  out,  into  positive  or  direct  action 
on  its  own  account  =  Religion,  i.  e the  emergence,  into  open 
manifestation,  of  Fatherhood  and  sonship,  which  lie  hidden 

within  all  secular  life . 18-24 

Faith,  an  energy  of  basal  self,  using,  as  instruments  and  material, 
the  sum  of  faculties;  therefore,  each  faculty,  separately ,  can  give 
but  a  partial  vindication  of  an  integral  act  of  faith  .  .  .  .  24,  25 

This  applies  to  Reason  ;  compare  its  relation  to  acts  of  affection, 
imagination,  chivalry;  all  such  acts  are  acts  of  Venture,  using 
evidence  of  reason  in  order  to  go  beyond  evidence  ....  25-29 

So  faith  makes  use  of  all  knowledge,  but  is,  itself,  its  own  motive. 

It  uses  as  its  instrument  every  stage  of  science  ;  but  is  pledged 

to  no  one  particular  stage . 29-32 


XIV 


Synopsis  of  Contents. 


PAGE 


IV.  Faith,  simple  adhesion  of  soul  to  God;  yet,  once  begun,  it  has 


a  history  of  its  own ;  long,  complicated,  recorded  in  Bible, 

stored  up  in  Creeds . 32-34 

This  involves  difficulties,  intricacies,  efforts  ;  all  this,  the  neces¬ 
sary  consequence  of  our  being  born  in  the  ‘  last  days  ’  .  .  34-37 

Yet  to  the  end,  faith  remains  an  act  of  personal  and  spiritual 

adhesion . 37, 38 

V.  Faith  not  only  covers  a  long  past,  but  anticipates  the  future ;  it 
pledges  itself  ahead,  e.  g ,  in  the  case  of  ‘ordination  vows.’ 

Such  pledges  justified,  because  the  act  of  faith  is  personal ; 
and  the  object  of  faith  is  final,  i.  e.,  ‘  Christ,  the  same  yester¬ 
day,  to-day,  and  forever  ’ . 38-44 


II. 

The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God. 


I.  Object  of  the  essay  and  attitude  assumed . 47-49 

II.  A  broad  contrast  between  the  God  of  Philosophy  and  the  God  of 

religion .  49 

Attempts  to  get  rid  of  the  opposition  (1)  by  division  of  territory ; 

(2)  by  confusion  of  terms . 49-51 

III.  Religion  demands  that  God  shall  be  Personal,  and  stand  in  a 

moral  relationship  with  man . 52—54 

IV.  Growth  and  purification  of  the  religious  conception  of  God  .  .  54-56 

V.  Religion  and  Morals.  Collision  between  the  two  in  Greece,  and 

its  consequences.  Synthesis  of  religion  and  morality  among 

the  Jews  :  and  in  Christianity . 56-64 

Subsequent  collisions  between  religion  and  morals  within  the 
Christian  Church.  The  Reformation  a  moral  protest.  Im¬ 
morality  of  its  later  developments.  Modern  protest  against 
these . 64-68 

VI.  Religion  and  Reason.  Protest  of  Greek  Philosophy  against 
Polytheism.  Christian  Theology  the  meeting-point  of  Jew¬ 
ish  religion  and  Greek  Philosophy . 68-71 

What  Theology  is.  Objection  to  it  from  the  side  of  (1)  re¬ 
ligion,  (2)  Philosophy . 71-74 

The  Christian  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  an  appeal  to  the  reason  74,  75 
Its  answer  to  the  speculative  problems  of  Greek  thought  ( 1 )  as 
to  what  unity  is;  (2)  as  to  the  immanence  of  reason  in 

nature  .  75-/8 

The  witness  of  the  Fathers . •_ . 78, 79 

The  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  the  true  Monotheism;  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  the  Logos  as  personal  yet  immanent  . .  79 

VII.  The  Christian  doctrine  of  God,  why  challenged  in  the  pres¬ 
ent  day . _ .  79 

The  deism  of  the  last  century.  The  new  science  of  nature. 
Evolution  restores  the  truth  of  the  Divine  immanence  which 

deism  denied.  Pantheistic  reaction . 80-S4 

The  Christian  doctrine  of  God  the  safeguard  of  rational  re¬ 
ligion  against  deism  and  pantheism . 84, 85 


Synopsis  of  Contents .  xv 

PAGE 

VIII.  The  so-called  ‘proofs’  of  the  existence  of  God .  85-S7 

Parallel  between  the  belief  in  God  and  the  belief  in  nature  .  87,  88 

Verification  in  experience  the  only  ‘proof.’  Reason  in  both 

the  interpreter  of  Faith .  8S-90 

III. 

The  Problem  of  Pain. 

The  problem  of  pain  admits  of  no  new  treatment,  but  the  attempt 
to  use  it  as  an  argument  against  Christianity  calls  for  a  re¬ 
capitulation  of  what  may  be  said  on  the  other  side  ...  93 

Pain  is  (1)  animal,  (2)  human. 

(1)  Animal  pain  is  a  thing  of  which  we  can  only  form  im¬ 

aginative  conjectures ;  and  these,  besides  being  liable  to 
exaggeration,  are  not  of  a  nature  to  form  premises  for 
argument . .  93-95 

(2)  Common-sense  tells  us  that  human  pain  contributes  as 

(a)  punitive,  (3)  purgatorial,  (c)  prophylactic,  to  the  de¬ 
velopment  of  the  individual  and  the  race .  95~9S 

Natural  religion  further  views  it  as  the  necessary  condition 
of  approach,  by  sinful  beings,  to  the  Divine;  and  looks 
for  its  fuller  explanation  to  a  future  existence  ....  98-100 

Christianity  carries  on  the  view  of  natural  religion,  and 
sees  in  pain  and  suffering.  — 

(a)  The  antidote  to  sin . 100-102 

(3)  The  means  of  individual  and  social  progress  .  .  .  102,  103 

(c)  The  source  of  sympathy  with  man .  103 

(d)  The  secret  of  union  with  God . 103,  104 

IV. 

Preparation  in  History  for  Christ. 

General  considerations  on  the  study  of  the  historical  preparation, 

as  part  of  the  study  of  the  Incarnation . 107-110 

Special  value  of  such  study  in  the  present  age  of  historical  and 
scientific  method,  which 

may  be  able  to  gauge  finally  the  value  of  naturalist  theories 

of  the  origin  of  Christianity . 1 10,  in 

may  find  its  own  congenial  ‘  signs  ’  in  the  beauty  of  mani¬ 
fold  preparing  process ;  in  the  wonder  of  an  apparently 

unique  convergence  of  lines  of  preparation . m-114 

I.  General  preparation  —  in  the  world  at  large  : 

(1)  In  the  shaping  of  its  external  order . 114-nS 

(2)  Through  its  inward  experiences  of 

Failure . 118-121 

Progress  .  121-124 


XVI 


Synopsis  of  Contents. 


II.  Special  preparation  —  in  Israel: 

(1)  The  singularity  of  Israel’s  external  position  at  the  critical 

moment  of  the  Christian  Era . 

(2)  The  paradox  of  its  inward  character . 

(3)  The  peculiar  influences  which  had  made  it  what  it  was  . 

a.  Prophecy . 

b.  The  Law . . 

c.  The  Course  of  its  History . 

III.  The  independence  of  the  two  preparations;  the  paradox  of 

their  fulfilment  in  one  Christ . 


PAGE 


124-129 
129-132 
x32>  133 
133-139 
i39?  140 

1 40-145 

I45-!4S 


V. 

The  Incarnation  and  Development. 

I.  The  theory  of  evolution  has  recalled  our  minds  to  the  ‘  cosmical 
significance’  of  the  Incarnation,  which  was  a  prominent 
thought  in  (1)  the  early,  (2)  mediaeval  church  ....  151-156 

II.  Theology  and  Science  move  in  different  but  parallel  planes  : 

one  gives  the  meaning,  the  other  the  method,  of  creation  .  156,  157 

Thus  the  doctrine  of  ‘  the  Eternal  Word’  is  compatible  with 


all  the  verified  results  of  scientific  teaching  on 

(1)  energy .  157 

(2)  teleology . 157-160 

(3)  origin  and  antiquity  of  man . 161,  162 

(4)  mental  and  moral  evolution  . . 162-166 

(5)  the  relation  of  philosophy  to  Theology . 166-168 

(6)  the  comparative  study  of  religions  .  .  J.  .  .  .  168-170 

while  in  the  Christian  view,  it  both  illuminates  and  is  illumi¬ 
nated  by  those  results . 170-172 

III.  But  when  the  planes  intersect,  and  we  say  ‘the  Word  was 

made  flesh,’  we  are  said  to  traverse  experience  ....  172 

(1)  This  charge  is  only  a  critical  presumption  .  .  .  .  172,173 

(2)  All  novelties  traverse  past  experience .  173 

(3)  Moral  experience  is  as  real  as  physical . 173,  174 

(4)  The  Incarnation  harmonizes  with  our  moral  experi¬ 

ence  . 174,  175 

(5)  By  reorganizing  morality  it  reorientates  character  .  175 

(6)  It  has  therefore  a  true  relation  to  all  phases  of 

human  life . * . 175-178 


VI. 

The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma. 

I.  The  principle  of  Dogma  is  not  to  be  attacked  or  defended  on 
a  priori  grounds.  The  real  question  is  whether  the  Incarna¬ 
tion,  as  asserted,  is  true  or  false.  And  this  is  a  question  for 
evidence . .  181-183 


Synopsis  of  Contents.  xvii 

PAGE 

Even  scientific  ‘dogmata’  differ  less  from  religious  dogmas 
than  is  sometimes  supposed,  in  that  (a)  both  are  received  on 
evidence,  ( b )  both  require  an  experimental  verification,  or 
(in  so  far  as  either  are  still  held  along  with  error)  correction  1S3-1S7 
The  acceptance  of  dogmatic  truth  is  essentially  reasonable. 

Its  claims  to  [a)  authority,  (t>)  finality,  are  not  the  ground 
for  accepting  it,  but  a  necessary  outcome  of  the  facts 

accepted  in  it . 1S7-191 

II.  The  evidence  for  the  Incarnation  is  as  many-sided  as  human 

life . 191-194 

Rut  primarily  historical.  The  crucial  fact  is  the  Resurrection  194-197 
Everything  is  involved  in  the  answer  to  ‘  What  think  ye  of 

Christ  ?  ’ . 197,  198 

It  is  an  error  to  think  of  the  belief  of  the  Church  as  an  edifice 

built  up  in  the  age  of  the  Councils . 19S,  199 

The  decisions  of  the  Councils  represent  only  a  growth  in  intel¬ 
lectual  precision  through  experience  of  error . 199-204 

The  creed  in  its  whole  substance  is  the  direct  outcome  of  the 

fact  of  the  Incarnation . 204-207 

III.  The  dogmatic  creed  is  to  be  distinguished  from  the  body  of 

theological  literature  which  comments  upon  it .  207 

Theological  comment  is  variable  :  it  may  err,  it  may  develop. 

Herein  lie  most  of  the  disputes  of  technical,  and  the  advances 

of  popular,  theology . 20S-212 

Even  the  creeds-  are  human  on  the  side  of  their  language  .  .  2 12-2 14 

IV.  The  ‘  damnatory  clauses/  though  easily  misunderstood,  really 

mean  what  is  both  true  and  necessary  ........  214-216 

Christian  dogmatism  is,  after  all,  devotion  to  truth  for  truth’s 

sake . 216,217 

V.  The  modern  reading  of  the  Scriptures  without  miracle  and  the 
Christ  without  Godhead  depends  for  its  justification  upon  the 

truth  of  an  hypothesis . 2 17-221 

But  this  hypothesis  explains  away,  instead  of  explaining,  the 

evidence;  while  it  is  itself  incapable  of  proof . 221-224 

Historical  reality  is  essential  to  the  truth  of  the  Incarnation. 

Mere  spiritualism  ends  in  unreality  .  .  . . 224-226 

VII. 

The  Atonement. 

I.  Sin  and  sacrifice  in  relation  to  the  Atonement . 229,  2^0 

1.  Twofold  character  of  sin  :  — 

(a)  A  state  of  alienation  from  God .  230 

( b )  A  state  of  guilt . . . 231,  232 

2.  Twofold  character  of  sacrifice  :  — 

{a)  The  expression  of  man’s  original  relation  to  God  .  .  232,  233 
{b)  The  expiation  of  sin,  and  propitiation  of  wrath  .  .  233,  234 
Both  aspects  shown  in  the  ceremonies  of  the  Mosaic 
Law  . .  234, 235 

3.  Inadequacy  of  man’s  offerings  to  satisfy  sense  of  personal 

§ullt . 235-237 

b 


xviii  Synopsis  of  Contents. 

PAGK 

II.  The  death  of  Christ  answers  to  the  demands  of  the  sense  of 

sin  and  of  the  desire  for  forgiveness .  237 

I.  Christ’s  death  a  sacrifice  of  propitiation:  — 

(a)  Of  the  wrath  of  God,  which  is  — 

(1)  the  hostility  of  Divine  Nature  to  sin . 238,  239 

(2)  the  expression  of  the  eternal  law  of  righteousness  239,  240 

(b)  By  virtue  — 

(1)  Of  the  obedience  manifested  by  Him  ....  240,241 

(2)  Of  His  recognition  of  the  Divine  justice  ...  241 

(3)  Of  His  death  as  the  necessary  form  of  both  .  .  241,  242 

The  propitiatory  character  of  His  death  shown, — 


(i.)  By  the  general  relation  between  physical  and 

spiritual  death .  242 

(ii.)  Because  of  the  nature  of  Him  who  endured 

it . .  243, 244 

(iii.)  Because  of  the  results  flowing  from  it  .  .  244-245 

(c)  On  behalf  of  men,  for  He  is  our  Representative  — 

(1)  As  Victim,  by  His  perfect  humanity  our  sin- 

bearer  .  245-247 

(2)  As  Priest,  able  to  offer  what  man  could  not  .  .  247,  248 

The  true  vicariousness  of  His  Priesthood  .  .  .  248 

2.  Christ’s  death  the  source  of  life . 248,  249 

(a)  As  delivering  us  from  sin .  248 

(b)  As  bestowing  new  life .  249 

(c)  As  uniting  us  to  God .  249 

But  only  as  connected  with  and  issuing  in  the  Resur¬ 
rection  and  Ascension . 249, 250 

3.  Christ’s  death  in  relation  to  man’s  responsibility  ....  250 

(a)  The  Atonement,  being  forgiveness,  must  remit  some 

of  the  consequences  of  sin . 250,  251 

(b)  But  our  mystical  union  with  Christ  ensures  our  share 

in  the  sacrifice . 251, 252 

(1)  Not  in' its  propitiation,  which  we  can  only  plead  .  252,  253 

(2)  But  by  faith  which  accepts  it  and  recognizes  its 


(3)  And  by  following  Him  in  obedience  through 

suffering . .  254,  255 


III.  Consideration  of  certain  erroneous  statements  of  the  doctrine  255 

1.  The  implied  divergence  of  Will  in  the  Godhead  ....  255,256 

2.  The  view  of  Redemption  as  wrought  for  us,  not  in  us  .  .  256,  25 7 

3.  The  view  that  Christ  redeemed  us  by  taking  our  punishment 

instead  of  us .  257 

(1)  The  essential  punishment  of  alienation  He  could  not 


bear .  257 

(2)  The  penal  sufferings  which  He  bore  are  not  remitted  to 

us .  257 

(3)  But  He  bore  them  that -we,  like  Him,  may  bear  them 

sacrificially,  not  as  punishment .  258 

IV.  Short  summary. 


1.  The  death  of  Christ  as  propitiatory  )  tested  by  expe- 

2.  His  death  as  transforming  pain  and  death  )  rience  .  258,  259 


Synopsis  of  Contents. 


xix 


VIII. 


The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration. 

Christianity  is  an  experienced  or  manifested  life  ;  because  its 
essence  is  the  possession  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  Spirit  is 

Life . 

I.  The  Holy  Spirit  the  life-giver, — 

In  nature  . 

In  man . 

In  the  gradual  recovery  of  man  from  sin . 

In  Christ . 

In  the  Church  . 

His  work  in  the  Church,  — 

1.  Social  or  ecclesiastical  . 

2.  Nourishing  individuality :  both  of  character  through  the 

Sacraments,  and  of  judgment  through  authority  .  .  . 

3.  Consecrating  the  whole  of  nature,  material  as  well  as 

spiritual . 

4.  By  a  gradual  method . 

Imperfection  of  the  Old  Testament . 

“  of  the  Church  . . 

The  Holy  Spirit  personally  present  and  continually  operative 

in  the  Church . 

II.  The  Theology  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Real  but  limited  knowledge 

through  revelation . 

He  is  (a)  distinct  in  Person  but  very  God,  (l>)  proceeding  from 
the  Father  and  the  Son,  (c)  One  in  essence  with  the  Father 

and  the  Son . 

The  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  not  Tritheistic . 

Ill  The  Inspiration  of  Holy  Scripture.  Fatal  results  of  not  keep¬ 
ing  this  in  context  with  the  rest  of  the  Holy  Spirit’s  work 
in  the  Church . 

1.  It  is  an  article  of  the  Faith,  not  among  its  bases  .... 

2.  It  is  a  necessary  article . 

3.  Its  certain  and  primary  meaning,  as  seen  by  examination  of 

the  books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments . 

4.  Its  practical  meaning  and  obligation . 

5.  Questions  raised  as  to  its  meaning  by  Old  Testament 

criticism :  — 

(a)  While  the  Old  Testament  is,  like  the  New  Testament, 
certainly  and  really  historical,  can  it  admit  of  elements 

of  idealism  in  the  narrative  ? . 

(f>)  Can  it  admit  of  dramatic  composition  ? . 

(c)  Can  it  admit  the  presence  of  primitive  myths? 

6.  The  Church  not  prevented  from  admitting  these  to  be  open 

questions  either,  — 

(1)  By  any  dogmatic  definitions  of  inspiration.  . 

(2)  By  our  Lord’s  language  as  to  the  Old  Testament 
We  may  expect  the  criticism  of  the  Old  Testament,  like  that 

of  the  New,  to  deepen  and  enlarge,  not  impair,  our  reverence 
for  the  ‘  Word  of  God’ . . 


PAGE 


263-265 

26^-266 

266 

267 
267,  268 
26S,  269 

269 

269-273 

273>  274 
274 
274-276 
276,277 

277,  278 

278,  279 


279,  280 
2S0,  2S1 


281-284 
264,  285 
285 

285, 291 
291-293 


293-296 

296,  297 

297,  298 


29S, 299 
299-301 


301,  302 


XX 


Synopsis  of  Contents . 


IX. 

The  Church. 

PAGE 

The  Church  the  filial  satisfaction  of  certain  social  instincts  ;  namely, 
the  need  of  co-operation  for  life,  for  knowledge,  and  for 

worship .  305 

These  instincts  are,  — 

(1)  Universal . 305-307 

(2)  Embodied  in  Judaism,  and  combined  with  the  prin¬ 

ciple  of  God’s  election  of  one  people  to  be  a  source 
of  blessing  to  others .  307-310 

(3)  Fulfilled  in  the  Incarnation .  310 

I.  The  Church  as  the  centre  of  spiritual  life:  offers  its  blessings, 

without  limitation,  to  all  who  are  willing  to  submit  to 
spiritual  discipline,  and  combines  them  in  a  brotherhood  of 

common  service . 311-313 

Hence  it  is,  of  necessity,  — 

(1)  A  visible  body . 3 1 3—3 1 5 

(2)  One,  both  in  its  spiritual  life  and  in  external  organiza¬ 

tion.  This  unity  implied  in  the  New  Testament, 
and  explained  in  the  second  century,  as  centring 
in  the  Episcopate.  The  Apostolical  Succession  is 
thus  the  pledge  of  historic  continuity,  and  has 
always  been  the  mark  of  the  English  Church. 

Loyalty  to  the  Church  is  no  narrowing  of  true 

sympathy . 3I5~321 

II.  The  Church  as  the  Teacher  of  Truth  :  primarily  by  bearing 
witness  to  truths  revealed  to  it ;  secondarily  by  interpreting 

the  relation  of  these  truths  to  each  other . 321-323 

Hence,  — 

(1)  It  witnesses  to  the  reality  of  central  spiritual  truths 

and  teaches  them  authoritatively  to  its  members  .  y  3>  324 

(2)  It  trains  its  members  to  a  rational  apprehension  of 

these  truths .  324 

(3)  It  leaves  great  freedom  on  points  not  central  .  .  .  324 

(4)  It  protects  the  truths  themselves  from  decay  .  .  .  325,  326 

III.  The  Church  the  home  of  worship:  worship  the  Godward  ex¬ 
pression  of  its  life ;  its  highest  expression  in  the  Eucharist ; 

its  priestly  work  carried  out  from  the  first  by  a  special  class 

of  ministers . 326-329 

Each  aspect  of  the  Church’s  work  completed  by  the  co¬ 
operation  of  the  Blessed  Dead .  329 

Causes  of  the  apparent  failure  of  the  Church .  329~335 

Need  of  its  witness  and  work  in  modern  times  ......  335,  336 


Synopsis  of  Contents. 


X. 


Sacraments. 

Comprehensiveness  a  characteristic  distinction  of  fruitful  and 
enduring  work  :  which  will  here  be  traced  in  the  sacra¬ 
mental  work  of  the  Church ;  with  incidental  reference  to 
the  evidential  import  of  the  inner  coherence  of  Christianity, 

and  its  perfect  aptness  for  humanity . 

I.  Christianity  claims  to  be  a  way  of  life  for  men  :  whose  nature 
and  life  involve  two  elements;  which  are  usually  distin¬ 
guished  as  bodily  and  spiritual . 

The  distinction  of  these  two  elements  real ;  their  union 

essential . 

It  is  to  be  inquired  whether  this  complexity  of  man’s  nature  is 
recognized  and  provided  for  in  the  Church  of  Christ  .  .  . 

II.  Grounds  for  anticipating  that  it  would  be  so,  -— 

(1)  In  the  very  fact  of  the  Incarnation;  and  more  par¬ 

ticularly  . "T . 

(2)  In  the  character  of  the  preparatory  system  whose 

forecasts  it  met . 

(3)  And  in  certain  conspicuous  features  of  Christ’s 

ministry . . 

The  work  of  Sacraments  to  be  linked  with  this  anticipation  . 

III.  The  prominence  of  the  Sacramental  principle  in  Christ’s 

teaching:  to  be  estimated  with  reference  to  the  previous 

convictions  of  those  whom  He  taught . 

There  is  thus  found  :  — 

(1)  Abundant  evidence  that  the  general  principle  of 

Sacraments  is  accepted,  to  be  a  characteristic  of 
Christianity . 

(2)  The  authoritative  appointment  of  particular  expres¬ 

sions  for  this  general  principle  ;  — 

Expressions  foreshown  in  preparatory  history ; 
anticipated  in  preliminary  discourses  ;  ap¬ 
pointed  with  great  solemnity  and  emphasis  .  . 

[These  expressions  such  as  may  be  seen  to  be  intrinsi¬ 
cally  appropriate,  ethically  helpful  and  instructive, 
and  safeguards  against  individualism] . 

(3)  An  immediate  recognition  in  the  Apostolic  Church 

of  the  force  of  this  teaching,  and  of  the  necessary 
prominence  of  Sacraments . 

IV.  The  correspondence  between  the  ministry  of  Sacraments  and 

the  complex  nature  of  man  appears  in  three  wavs :  since,  — 

(1)  The  dignity  and  the  spiritual  capacity  of  the  material 

order  is  thus  vindicated  and  maintained:  so  that 
unreal  and  negative  spirituality  is  precluded,  and 
provision  is  made  for  the  hallowing  of  stage  after 
stage  in  a  human  life . 

(2)  The  claim  of  Christianity  to  penetrate  the  bodily  life 

is  kept  in  its  due  prominence  by  the  very  nature  of 
Sacraments  ;  the  redemption  of  the  body  is  fore¬ 
shown  ;  and  perhaps  begun . .  . 


xxi 

PAGE 

339-342 

342,  343 
343>  344 
344 

344-346 

346,  347 

347 

347 

347.  343 

34S,  349 

349-3 5 1 
344-351 
35T>  352 

352-356 

356-359 


XXI! 


Synopsis  of  Contents. 


PAGE 


Sacraments  ( continued ). 

(3)  The  evidences  of  mystery  in  human  nature,  its  mo¬ 
ments  of  unearthliness,  its  immortal  longings,  its 
impatience  of  finite  satisfaction,  being  recognized 
and  accounted  for  by  the  doctrine  of  Grace,  are  met 
by  Sacraments  ;  and  led  in  an  ordered  progress 
towards  a  perfect  end .  359~362 


XI. 

Christianity  and  Politics. 

Introductory.  The  twofold  problem  of  Christianity  in  its  rela¬ 
tion  to  human  society,  — 

(1)  To  consecrate  ;  (2)  to  purify . 

I.  The  Church  is  itentral  as  to  natural  differences,  f.g.,  the  form 
of  government,  autocratic  or  democratic  leaning  .  .  .  . 

II.  The  Church  snpple7iients  the  moral  influence  of  the  State,  in 
respect  of,  — 

( 1 )  The  appeal  to  higher  motives . 

e.  g. ,  as  to  the  duties  of,  — 

(a)  Governors  and  governed . 

( b )  Owners  of  property . .  .  . 

(2)  The  support  of  the  weak  against  the  strong  .  .  .  . 

(3)  The  maintenance  of  religion . 

III.  The  Church  purifies  the  whole  social  life  of  mankind, — 

(1)  By  spreading  Christian  ideas  .  . . 

(2)  By  maintaining  the  Christian  type  of  character  .  . 

Conclusion.  The  Church  appeals  to  deeper  needs  than  the 

State,  and  is  therefore  fundamentally  Catholic,  and  only 
incidentally  national . . 


365-367 

367-369 

370-372 

372-376 
376,  377 
377-38o 

380-385 

385. 386 
386,  387 


38 7,  388 


XII. 

Christian  Ethics. 

General  characteristics  of  the  Christian  ethical  system  .  .  391,392 

Dogmatic  postulates  :  — 

(1)  Doctrine  of  God:  Ged  a  Personal  and  Ethical  Being  392-394 

(2)  Doctrine  of  Man:  his  ideal  nature;  his  destiny  as 


related  to  the  good  through  conscience  and  free¬ 
dom  ;  his  present  condition .  394_398 

(3)  Doctrine  of  Christ:  Catholic  view  of  His  Person  .  .  398,399 

I.  Christ’s  revelation  of  the  Highest  Good . 399-402 

The  Kingdom  of  God  :  twofold  meaning  of  the  term  .  .  399-40 1 

Christian  view  of  the  world . 401,402 

II.  The  Moral  Law  :  its  authority,  sanctions,  and  content  .  .  .  402,  409 
The  basis  of  obligation*  found  in  the  idea  of  personal 

relationship  between  God  and  Man . .  .  402,403 

The  sanctions  and  motives  of  Christian  Morality  .  .  .  404,  405 
The  Law  of  Duty  embraced  in  the  Decalogue . 405-409 


Synopsis  of  Contents.  xxiii 

PAGE 

III.  Christ  the  pattern  of  character . .  .  .  410-423 

Conditions  required  in  the  perfect  example . 410,  41 1 

Christ  the  pattern  of  filial  dependence,  obedience,  and 

love . 412-414 

Virtuous  action  seen  to  imply  a  harmony  of  the  different 
elements  in  personality,  postulating  a  threefold  virtuous 

principle  supernaturally  imparted . 414-416 

Christian  character:  the  Christian  personality  in  its  rela¬ 
tion,  — 

(1)  To  God  —  Christian  Wisdom  . . 416-418 

(2)  To  Man  —  Christian  Justice . 418-420 

(3)  To  Self  —  Christian  Temperance .  420 

(4)  To  the  hindrances  of  environment  —  Christian  Forti¬ 

tude  .  421-423 

IV.  Christ  the  source  of  the  re-creation  of  character . 423-430 

Claim  of  Christianity  to  re-create  character .  423 

Dogmatic  truths  implied  in  the  re-creative  process  .  .  .  423,  424 

Holiness  dependent  on  a  permanent  relation  to  Christ  .  424 

The  Church  a  school  of  character,  and  sphere  of  indi¬ 
vidual  discipline . 424-427 

Christian  ascetics,  —  their  ground  in  reason,  and  effect  on 

character . 427-430 

V.  The  consummation  of  God’s  kingdom  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  430-434 

The  intermediate  stage .  430 

The  final  stage  of  glory  : 

(i)  The  kingdom  to  be  finally  manifested  .  .  .  .  .  431 

(ii)  and  purified  through  judgment .  431 

Extent  and  limits  of  the  final  triumph  of  good  ....  431-433 

Perfection  of  human  personality :  the  perfect  state  one  of 

harmony . .  .  433 

glory . 433 

blessedness . 434 

and  fellowship  in  a  moral  community .  434 

VI.  Conclusion  :  relation  of  Christian  Ethics  to  the  products  of 

civilization,  to  individual  character,  to  social  life.  .  ,  .  435,436 


Appendix  on  some  Aspects  of  Christian  Duty . 437-441 


I. 

FAITH. 


♦ 


HENRY  SCOTT  HOLLAND. 


1 


I. 


FAITH. 

I.  In  proposing  to  consider  the  origin  and  growth  of  faith,  we 
have  a  practical,  and  not  a  merely  theoretical,  aim.  We  are  think¬ 
ing  of  the  actual  problems  which  are,  at  this  moment,  encompass¬ 
ing  and  hindering  faith ;  and  it  is  because  of  their  urgency  and 
their  pressure  that  we  find  it  worth  while  to  go  back  upon  our 
earliest  beginnings,  in  order  to  ask  what  Faith  itself  means.  P'or 
only  through  an  examination  of  its  nature,  its  origin,  and  its  struc¬ 
ture,  will  it  be  possible  for  us  to  sift  the  questions  which  beset  us, 
and  to  distinguish  those  to  which  Faith  is  bound  to  give  an  answer 
from  those  which  it  can  afford  to  let  alone. 

We  set  out  then  on  our  quest,  in  the  mind  of  those  who  have 
felt  the  trouble  that  is  in  the  air.  Even  if  we  ourselves  be  not  of 
their  number,  yet  we  all  suffer  from  their  hesitation ;  we  all  feel 
the  imparted  chill  of  their  anxieties.  For  we  are  of  one  family, 
and  the  sickness  or  depression  of  some,  must  affect  the  whole 
body.  All  of  us,  even  the  most  confident,  are  interested  in  the 
case  of  those  who  are  fearing  for  themselves,  as  they  sadly  search 
their  own  hearts  and  ask,  ‘  What  is  it  to  believe  ?  Do  I  know 
what  it  is  to  believe  ?  Have  I,  or  have  I  not,  that  which  can  be 
called  “  faith  ”  ?  How  can  I  be  sure  ?  What  can  I  say  of  myself?  ’ 
Such  questions  as  these  are  haunting  and  harassing  many  among 
us  who  find  themselves  facing  the  Catholic  Creed,  with  its  ring  of 
undaunted  assurance,  with  its  unhesitating  claim  to  unique  and 
universal  supremacy,  and  contrast  with  this  their  own  faint  and 
tentative  apprehension  of  the  strong  truths  which  are  so  confi¬ 
dently  asserted.  Such  men  and  women  are  anxious  and  eager  to 
number  themselves  among  those  that  believe  ;  but  can  they  call 
this  temper  1  belief,’  which  is  so  far  below  the  level  of  the  genuine 
response  which  those  Creeds  obviously  expect?  Where  is  the 
blitheness  of  faith  ?  Where  is  its  unshaken  conviction  ?  Where 
is  its  invincible  simplicity?  Why  is  it  that  they  only  succeed  in 
moving  forward  with  such  painful  indecision  ? 

Now,  it  is  to  this  temper  that  this  essay  is  addressed.  It  does 
not  aim  at  convicting  a  hostile  disbelief,  but  at  succoring  a  dis- 


4 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

tressed  faith.  And  this  it'  does  under  the  conviction  that,  in  so 
doing,  it  is  responding  to  the  peculiar  character  and  needs  of  the 
situation. 

For  the  urgency,  the  peril  of  the  hour,  lies,  not  so  much  in  the 
novelty,  or  force,  of  the  pressure  that  is  brought  to  bear  against 
faith,  as  in  the  behavior  of  faith  itself  under  the  pressure.  What 
has  happened  is,  not  that  faith  has  been  confounded,  but  that  it 
has  been  challenged.  It  has  been  challenged  by  new  social  needs, 
by  strange  developments  of  civilization,  by  hungers  that  it  had  not 
yet  taken  into  account,  by  thirsts  that  it  had  not  prepared  itself 
to  satisfy.  It  has  been  challenged  by  new  scientific  methods, 
wholly  unlike  its  familiar  intellectual  equipment;  by  new  worlds 
of  facts  opened  to  its  astonishment  through  discoveries  which 
have  changed  the  entire  look  of  the  earth ;  by  immense  masses 
of  novel  material,  which  it  has  been  suddenly  and  violently  re¬ 
quired  to  assimilate ;  by  strange  fashions  of  speech  in  science  and 
history ;  by  a  babel  of  ‘  unknown  tongues  ’  in  all  departments  of 
learning  and  literature. 

Faith  is  under  the  pressure  of  this  challenge ;  and  the  primary 
question  is,  How  will  it  behave  ?  What  is  it  going  to  say,  or  do, 
in  face  of  this  exciting  transformation  which  has  passed  over  the 
entire  surface  of  our  intellectual  scenery?  How  will  it  deal  with 
the  situation?  Will  it  prove  itself  adequate  to  the  crisis?  To 
what  extent  can  it  afford  to  submit  to  the  transforming  process 
which  has  already  operated  upon  the  mind  and  the  imagination? 
If  it  submit,  can  it  survive?  And  in  what  condition?  with  what 
loss,  or  damage,  or  change  ?  On  every  side  these  challenges  reach 
it ;  they  beat  at  its  doors ;  they  arrive  in  pelting  haste ;  they 
clamor  for  immediate  solutions. 

Now  faith,  under  these  rapid  and  stormy  challenges,  is  apt  to  fall 
into  panic.  For  this,  surely,  is  the  very  meaning  of  a  panic,  —  a 
fear  that  feeds  upon  itself.  Men  in  a  panic  are  frightened  at  find¬ 
ing  themselves  afraid.  So  now  with  faith ;  it  is  terrified  at  its 
own  alarm.  How  is  it  (it  asks  itself)  that  it  should  find  itself 
baffled  and  timorous?  If  faith  were  faith,  would  it  ever  lose  its 
confidence?  To  be  frightened  is  to  confess  itself  false  :  for  faith  is 
confidence  in  God,  Who  can  never  fail.  How  can  faith  allow  of 
doubt  or  hesitation  ?  Surely  for  faith  to  hesitate,  to  be  confused, 
is  to  deny  its  very  nature.  Thus  many  anxious  and  perplexed 
souls  retreat  before  their  own  perplexities.  Because  their  faith  is 
troubled,  they  distrust  and  abandon  their  faith.  The  very  fact  that 
it  is  in  distress  becomes  an  argument  against  it. 

It  is  at  this  point,  and  because  of  this  particular  peril,  that  we 


I.  Faith. 


5 


are  urgently  required  to  consider  very  seriously  the  nature  and 
conditions  of  faith.  For  our  panic  arises  from  our  assumption  that 
faith  is  of  such  a  nature  that  the  perplexity  into  which,  now  and 
again,  we  find  ourselves  thrown,  must  be  impossible  to  it,  must  be 
incompatible  with  it.  Now  is  this  so?  Ought  we  to  expect  of 
faith  that  its  confidence  should  never  fail  it,  —  that  its  light  should 
be  always  decisive  ?  Is  faith  incriminated  by  the  mere  fact  that 
it  is  in  difficulties  ? 

Let  us  first  consider  what  has  occurred.  Perhaps  the  situation 
itself,  if  we  quietly  review  it,  will  give  a  reason  why  it  is  that  just  at 
the  moment  when  we  most  need  vigor  and  assurance,  we  should 
find  ourselves  stripped  of  all  that  tends  to  reassure. 

For  the  peculiarity  of  the  disturbance  which  we  have  got  to 
encounter,  lies  in  this,  that  it  has  removed  from  us  the  very  weapons 
by  which  we  might  hope  to  encounter  it.  Faith’s  evidential  mate¬ 
rial  is  all  corroborative  and  accumulative ;  it  draws  it  from  out  of 
an  external  world,  which  can  never  wholly  justify  or  account  for 
the  internal  reality,  yet  which  can  so  group  itself  that  from  a  hun¬ 
dred  differing  lines  it  offers  indirect  and  parenthetic  and  conver¬ 
gent  witness  of  that  which  is  itself  beyond  the  reach  of  external 
proof.  It  is  this  gradual  grouping  of  an  outer  life  into  that  assorted 
perspective  in  which  it  offers  the  most  effective  corroboration  of 
the  inner  truth,  which  faith  slowly  accomplishes  upon  the  matter 
which  human  science  presents  to  it.  When  once  the  grouping  is 
achieved,  so  that  the  outer  world,  known  under  certain  scientific 
principles,  tallies  harmoniously  with  its  inner  convictions,  faith 
feels  secure.  The  external  life  offers  it  pictures,  analogies,  meta¬ 
phors  —  all  echoing  and  repeating  the  internal  world.  Faith 
beholds  itself  mirrored ;  and,  so  echoed,  so  mirrored,  it  feels 
itself  in  possession  of  corroborating  evidences.  But  the  present 
scientific  confusion  seems  to  have  shattered  the  mirror ;  to  have 
broken  up  the  perspective ;  to  have  dissolved  the  well-known 
groupings.  It  is  true,  as  some  of  the  essays  which  follow  will 
try  to  show,  that  the  convulsion  of  which  we  speak  lies,  chiefly, 
in  a  change  of  position  or  of  level ;  so  that  great  masses  of  the 
matter,  now  thrown  into  confusion,  will  be  found  to  compose 
themselves  afresh,  under  the  newer  conditions  of  review,  and  will 
appear  again  as  part  and  parcel  of  the  scientific  scenery.  It  is 
a  change  of  perspective  more  than  anything  else.  But,  no  doubt, 
such  a  change  is  just  of  the  character  to  upset  us,  to  disturb  us  ) 
for,  during  the  change,  while  shifting  from  the  old  position  to  the 
new,  we  are  in  the  very  chaos  of  confusion  j  everything  seems, 
for  the  moment,  to  oe  tumbling  about  around  us  j  the  entire  scene 


6 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


grows  unsteady  :  though,  indeed,  when  once  we  have  got  our  feet 
firmly  placed  at  the  new  level  of  vantage,  much,  that  once  was 
familiar,  is  discovered  to  be  back  again  in  its  place,  looking  much 
the  same  as  of  old.  It  is  the  first  shock  of  this  enforced  transi¬ 
tion  which  is  so  calculated  to  terrify ;  as  when,  for  instance,  men  see 
their  habitual  reliance  on  the  evidence  for  design  in  nature,  which 
had  been  inherited  from  Paley,  yield,  and  vanish,  under  the  review 
of  the  facts  with  which  the  theory  of  evolution  acquaints  them. 
What  they  feel  is,  that  their  familiar  mode  of  interpreting  their 
faith,  of  justifying  it,  of  picturing  it,  has  abruptly  been  tom  from 
them.  That  which  once  seemed  to  evidence  it  in  the  outer  world, 
has  ceased  to  be  accepted  or  trusted.  The  habitual  ways  of 
argument,  the  accepted  assumptions,  which  they  had  hitherto 
used  as  their  supports  and  their  instruments,  have  been  with¬ 
drawn,  have  become  obsolete.  Faith  is  thrown  back  on  itself, 
on  its  own  inherent,  naked  vitality ;  it  is  robbed  for  the  moment 
of  that  sense  of  solidity  and  security,  which  fortifies  and  refreshes 
it,  when  the  outer  world  of  natural  facts,  and  the  inner  world  of 
intellect  and  fancy,  all  corroborate  its  confidence  in  itself,  by 
harmonious  attestations  of  its  validity.  The  old  world  of  things 
had  been  brought  into  this  adaptation  with  the  principles  of  belief. 
Faith  was  at  home  in  it,  and  looked  out  over  it  with  cheerfulness, 
and  moved  about  it  with  freedom.  But  that  old  world  is  gone ; 
and  the  new  still  lies  untested,  unsorted,  unverified,  unassimilated, 
unhandled.  It  looks  foreign,  odd,  remote.  Faith  finds  no 
obvious  corroborations  in  it :  there,  where  it  used  to  feel  but¬ 
tressed  and  warm,  it  now  feels  chilly  and  exposed.1 

This  is  the  fiist  consequence,  and  it  is  serious  enough  in  itself 
to  provoke  alarm.  Faith  cannot  be  at  ease  or  confident,  until 
the  outer  world  responds  to  its  own  convictions  ;  and  yet  ease  and 
confidence  are  exactly  what  it  is  challenged  to  exhibit. 

And  then,  when  a  man,  under  this  sense  of  fear,  deprived  of 
external  testimonies,  attempts  to  exhibit,  to  evoke,  to  examine,  his 
inner  conviction,  in  its  inherent  and  vital  character,  as  it  is  in  itself, 
unsupported  by  adventitious  aids,  he  is  astonished  at  his  own  diffi¬ 
culty  in  discovering  or  disclosing  it.  Where  is  it  all  fled,  that 
which  he  had  called  his  faith?  He  had  enjoyed  it,  had  relied  on 
it,  had  again  and  again  asserted  it  in  word  and  deed ;  and  now, 
when  he  wants  to  look  at  it,  when  he  is  summoned  to  produce  it, 
when  he  is  challenged  to  declare  its  form  and  fashion,  he  finds 
himself  dazed,  bewildered,  searching  helplessly  for  that  which  ever 

1  Cf.  on  all  this,  an  excellent  statement  in  Mark  Pattisor/s  Sermons, 
Sermon  7. 


I.  Faith. 


7 


escapes  him,  grasping  at  a  fleeting  shadow  which  baffles  his  efforts 
to  endow  it  with  fixity  and  substance.  And,  so  finding,  he  grows 
yet  more  desperately  alarmed  ;  it  seems  to  him  that  he  has  been 
self-deceived,  betrayed,  abandoned.  He  is  bitterly  sensitive  to  the 
sharp  contrast  between  the  triumphant  solidity  with  which  scienti¬ 
fic  facts  bear  down  upon  him,  certified,  undeniable,  substantial,  and 
the  vague,  shifty,  indistinct  phantom,  into  which  his  conviction 
vanishes  as  soon  as  he  attempts  to  observe  it  in  itself,  or  draw  it 
out  for  public  inspection. 

Yet,  if  we  consider  what  faith  signifies,  we  shall  see  at  once  that 
this  contrast  ought  to  carry  with  it  no  alarm.  It  is  a  contrast 
which  follows  on  the  very  nature  of  faith.  If  we  had  understood 
its  nature,  we  could  never  have  expected  it  to  disclose  itself  under 
the  same  conditions  as  those  which  govern  the  observation  of  sci¬ 
entific  facts.  Faith  is  an  elemental  energy  of  the  soul,  and  the 
surprise  that  we  are  undergoing  at  not  being  able  to  bring  it  under 
direct  observation,  is  only  an  echo  of  tire  familiar  shock  with  which 
we  learn  that  science  has  ransacked  the  entire  bodily  fabric  of  man, 
and  has  nowhere  come  across  his  soul ;  or  has  searched  the  heav¬ 
ens  through  and  through  with  its  telescope,  and  has  seen  no  God. 
We  are  upset  for  a  moment  when  first  we  hear  this ;  and  then,  we 
recover  ourselves  as  we  recollect  that,  if  God  be  what  we  believe 
Him  to  be,  immaterial  and  spiritual,  then  He  would  cease  to  be 
Himself  if  He  were  visible  through  a  telescope  ;  and  that  if  the 
spirit  of  man  be  what  we  believe  it  to  be,  that  is  the  very  reason 
why  no  surgeon’s  knife  can  ever  arrive  at  it. 

And  as  with  the  soul,  so  with  all  its  inherent  and  essential  acts. 
They  are  what  it  is  :  they  can  no  more  be  visible  than  it  can. 
IIow  can  any  of  the  basal  intuitions,  on  which  our  knowledge  rests, 
present  themselves  to  our  inspection  in  the  guise  of  external  and 
phenomenal  facts?  That  which  observes  can  never,  strictly  speak¬ 
ing,  observe  itself.  It  can  never  look  on  at  itself  from  outside,  or 
view  itself  as  one  among  the  multitude  of  things  that  come  under 
its  review.  Howr  can  it?  It  is  itself  the  organ  of  vision  :  and  the 
eye  cannot  see  its  own  power  of  seeing.  This  is  why  natural  sci¬ 
ence,  which  is  an  organized  system  of  observation,  finds  that  its 
own  observing  mind  is  absolutely  and  totally  outside  its  ken.  It 
can  take  stock  of  the  physiological  condition  of  thoughts  or  of  feel¬ 
ings  ;  but  they  themselves,  in  their  actual  reality,  are  all  rigidly 
shut  out  from  the  entire  area  of  scientific  research.  Wherever  they 
begin,  it  ends  ;  its  methods  abruptly  fail.  It  possesses  no  instru¬ 
ment  by  which  to  make  good  its  advance  farther.  For  the  only 
instrument  which  it  knows  how  to  use,  and  by  which  alone  it  can 


8 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

search  and  examine,  is  itself  the  object  which  it  desires  to  submit 
to  examination.  But  if  it  is  to  be  examined,  who,  and  what,  is  to 
conduct  the  examination?  The  observing  mind  that  turns  round 
to  explore  itself,  carries  itself  round  as  it  turns.  It  can  never 
say  :  4  Let  me  look  at  myself,  as  if  I  were  a  phenomenon,  as  a  fact 
presented  to  my  own  consciousness,’  for  it  itself  would  be  engaged 
in  the  act  of  looking ;  it  itself  is  the  consciousness  to  which  it  pro¬ 
poses  to  present  itself. 1  So  again,  the  thought  itself  can  never 
hope,  by  rigid  analyzing,  to  arrive  at  last  at  itself,  as  the  final  resi¬ 
due  of  the  analysis,  for  it  is  itself,  all  along,  employed  as  analyst. 
The  process  of  analysis  is,  itself,  the  real  disclosure  of  what  thought 
is ;  and  this  disclosure  is  made  just  as  effectively  even  though  the 
result  of  the  analysis  be  to  declare  that  it  can  discover  nothing  that 
corresponds  to  thought.  It  is,  indeed,  impossible  that  anything 
should  so  correspond,  except  the  power  to  analyze  ;  but  this  power 
is  thought ;  and  every  act  of  the  analysis,  which  issues  in  the  scep¬ 
tical  conclusion,  has  verified  the  real  existence  of  thought.  It  is 
the  same  with  all  profound  spiritual  acts.  None  of  them  can  ever 
be  offered  to  public  inspection ;  they  can  never  be  handed  across 
to  another,  for  him  to  look  at.  For  they  are  living  acts,  and  not 
external  results.  How  can  an  act  of  will,  or  of  love,  be  submitted 
to  observation  ?  Its  outward  result  is  there  to  be  examined ;  but 
it,  itself,  is  incapable  of  transportation.  If  any  one  were  to  ask, 
‘What  is  it  you  mean  by  thinking,  or  loving,  or  willing?’  who 
could  tell  him?  It  would  be  obviously  impossible  to  explain,  ex¬ 
cept  to  a  being  who  could  think,  will,  and  love.  You  could  give 
him  illustrations  of  what  you  mean  —  signs  —  instances  —  evi¬ 
dences  ;  but  they  can  only  be  intelligible,  as  evidences,  to  one  who 
already  possesses  the  faculties.  No  one  can  do  a  piece  of  think¬ 
ing  for  another,  and  hand  it  over  to  him  in  a  parcel.  Only  by 
thinking,  can  it  be  known  what  thought  is ;  only  by  feeling  can  it 
be  understood  what  is  meant  by  a  feeling ;  only  by  seeing,  willing, 
loving,  can  we  have  the  least  conception  of  sight,  or  of  will,  or 
of  love. 

And  faith  stands  with  these  primary  intuitions.  It  is  deeper 
and  more  elemental  than  them  all :  and,  therefore,  still  less  than 
they  can  it  admit  of  translation  into  other  conditions  than  its 
own,  —  can  still  less  submit  itself  to  public  observation.  It  can 
never  be  looked  at  from  without.  It  can  be  known  only  from 
within  itself.  Belief  is  only  intelligible  by  believing.  Just  as  a 
man  who  is  asked  to  say  what  love  is,  apart  from  all  its  outward 

1  It  is  not  intended  to  deny  that  the  mind  can  ever  know  itself,  but  only 
that  such  knowledge  can  ever  be  won  by  methods  of  empirical  observation. 


I.  Faith. 


9 


manifestations  and  results,  must  be  driven  back  on  the  iteration  — 
‘  Love  is  —  what  love  is  ;  every  one  who  loves,  knows  ;  no  one  who 
does  not  love,  can  ever  know ;  ’  just  as  a  man,  who  is  challenged 
to  describe  and  define  his  feelings  or  his  desires,  when  stripped  of 
all  the  outward  evidences  that  they  can  possibly  give  of  themselves, 
is  thrown  into  inarticulate  bewilderment,  and  can  give  no  intelli¬ 
gible  answer,  and  can  fashion  to  himself  no  distinct  feature  or 
character,  and  can  only  assert,  confusedly,  that  he  feels  what  he 
feels,  and  that  to  desire  is  to  desire;  —  so  with  faith.  The  scien¬ 
tific  convulsion  has  shaken  and  confused  its  normal  modes  of  self¬ 
interpretation,  its  usual  evidences,  signs,  illustrations  :  these  outer 
aids  at  definition,  by  metaphor  or  by  corroboration,  are  all  brought 
under  dim  eclipse  for  the  moment :  their  relative  values  have  been 
thrown  into  uncertainty  :  they  are  undergoing  temporary  displace¬ 
ment,  and  no  one  is  quite  sure  which  is  being  shifted,  and  which 
can  be  trusted  to  stand  firm.  Faith,  robbed  of  its  habitual  aids  to 
expression,  is  summoned  to  show  itself  on  the  field,  in  its  own 
inner  character.  And  this  is  just  what  it  never  can  or  may  do.  It 
can  only  reiterate,  in  response  to  the  demand  for  definition,  ‘  Faith 
is  faith.’  ‘  Believing  is  —  just  believing.’  Why,  then,  let  ourselves 
be  distressed,  or  bewildered,  by  finding  ourselves  reduced  to  this 
impotence  of  explanation?  Far  from  it  being  an  incrimination  of 
our  faith,  to  find  ourselves  caught  in  such  a  difficulty  of  utter¬ 
ance,  it  is  just  what  must  happen  if  faith  be  a  profound  and  radical 
act  of  the  inner  soul.  It  is,  essentially,  an  active  principle,  a  source 
of  energy,  a  spring  of  movement :  and,  as  such,  its  verification 
can  never  take  place  through  passive  introspection.  It  verifies 
itself  only  in  actions  :  its  reality  can  only  be  made  evident  through 
experience  of  its  living  work. 

II.  We  may,  then,  free  ourselves  from  the  sinister  suspicions 
which  belong  to  panic.  It  is  not  the  superficiality  of  our  faith, 
which  is  the  secret  of  our  bewilderment,  but  its  depth.  The 
deepest  and  most  radical  elements  of  our  being  are,  necessarily, 
the  hardest  to  unearth.  They  are,  obviously,  the  most  remote 
from  the  surface  of  our  lives  :  they  are  the  rarest  to  show  them¬ 
selves  in  the  open  daylight :  they  require  the  severest  effort  to  dis¬ 
entangle  their  identity  :  they  lie  below  all  ordinary  methods  of 
utterance  and  expression  ;  they  can  only  be  discovered  through 
careful  recognition  of  the  secret  assumptions  which  are  involved  in 
the  acts  and  words  which  they  habitually  produce.  By  these  acts 
and  words  their  existence  and  their  force  is  suggested,  but  not 
exhausted  —  manifested,  but  not  accounted  for.  These  form  our 
only  positive  interpretation  and  evidence :  and  such  evidence 


io  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

must,  therefore,  always  remain  inadequate,  imperfect;  we  have 
always  and  inevitably  to  go  behind  it,  and  beyond  it,  in  order  to 
reach  and  touch  the  motive-energy  which  is  disclosed  to  us  through 
it.  No  wonder  that  we  find  this  far  from  an  easy  matter.  No 
wonder  that,  under  the  pressure  of  a  hostile  challenge,  we  often 
lose  ourselves  in  a  confused  babble,  as  we  struggle  to  make  plain 
to  others,  or  even  to  ourselves,  these  innermost  convictions  of 
our  souls. 

Indeed,  such  things  can  never  be  made  plain  :  no  one  ought  to 
expect  that  they  should.  For,  if  we  think  of  it,  the  primary  acts 
of  spirit  must  be  the  last  things  that  can  ever  be  made  plain  ;  for 
the  entire  life  issuing  from  them  is  their  only  interpretation,  so  that 
only  when  that  life  is  closed,  can  their  interpretation  be  complete. 
And  here,  in  faith,  we  are  at  the  root  of  a  life  which,  as  we  believe, 
it  will  take  eternity  to  fulfil.  And,  if  so,  only  in  and  through 
eternity  can  its  full  evidence  for  itself  be  produced,  or  its  right 
interpretation  be  yielded. 

Surely,  this  truth  clears  us  from  many  clamorous  demands,  which 
ask  of  us  an  impossible  verification.  For  if  once  we  saw  that  we 
were  employed  in  verifying  the  nature  of  that  which,  if  it  be  real, 
can,  confessedly,  present  us,  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  only  with 
the  most  fragmentary  evidence  of  its  character,  we  should  put 
lightly  aside  the  taunting  challenge  to  produce  such  proof  of  our 
motive  principle  as  will  stand  comparison  with  the  adequate  and 
precise  evidences  of  a  scientific  fact,  or  which  will  submit  to  the 
rigid  tests  of  a  legal  examination.  If  faith  be  faith,  it  could  not, 
for  that  very  reason,  fulfil  the  conditions  so  proposed  to  it.  These 
legal  and  scientific  conditions  are  laboriously  and  artificially  limited 
to  testing  the  presence  of  a  motive,  or  a  force,  which  must  be 
assumed  to  exist  under  fixed,  precise,  complete  conditions,  here 
and  now.  They  presuppose  that,  for  all  practical  purposes,  its 
quantity  cannot  vary,  or  fluctuate.  It  it  be  present  at  all,  it  is 
present  in  a  distinct  and  formal  manner,  open  to  definite  measure¬ 
ment,  expressing  itself  in  unalterable  characteristics.  The  entire 
consideration  of  its  activity  is  strictly  confined  to  the  normal 
horizon  of  the  actual  world  of  present  existence.  These  assump¬ 
tions  are  the  first  necessity  of  all  forms  of  science,  without  making 
which,  it  could  not  even  begin.  They  are  the  conditions  of  all  its 
success.  But  they  are  also  its  limitations  :  and  as  such,  they  most 
certainly  exclude  from  their  survey,  anything  that  professes  to  exist 
after  the  manner  of  faith.  For  what  is  faith?  It  is  no  steady 
force,  existing  under  certified  and  unvarying  conditions  which 
receive  their  final  determination  in  the  world  about  us.  Faith  is, 


I.  Faith. 


1 1 

while  it  is  here  on  earth,  only  a  tentative  probation  :  it  is  a 
struggling  and  fluctuating  effort  in  man  to  win  for  himself  a  valid 
hold  upon  things  that  exist  under  the  conditions  of  eternity.  In 
faith,  we  watch  the  early  and  rude  beginnings,  amid  an  environ¬ 
ment  that  but  faintly  and  doubtfully  responds  to  it,  of  a  power  still 
in  the  womb  —  still  unborn  into  its  true  sphere  —  still  enveloped 
in  dark  wrappings  which  encumber  and  impede.  We  see  here 
but  its  blind,  uncertain  pushings,  its  hesitating  moves,  now  forward, 
now  back,  now'  strangely  vigorous  and  assertive,  and  then  again,  as 
strangely  weak  and  retreating.  Its  significance,  its  interpretation, 
its  future  possibilities,  its  secret  of  development, — all  these  lie 
elsewhere,  beyond  death,  beyond  vision  :  we  can  but  dimly  guess 
from  its  action  here,  what  powers  feed  it,  on  what  resources  it  can 
rely,  what  capacity  of  growth  is  open  to  it,  what  final  issue  deter¬ 
mines  the  measure  and  value  of  its  efforts  and  achievements  here. 
Such  a  force  as  this  is  bound  to  upset  all  our  ablest  calculations. 
We  can  never  lay  down  rules  to  govern  and  predict  its  capabilities. 
It  will  disappoint  every  conceivable  test  that  we  can  devise  for 
fixing  its  conditions.  It  will  laugh  at  our  attempts  to  circumscribe 
its  action.  Where  we  look  for  it  to  be  weak,  it  will  suddenly  show 
itself  strong ;  when  we  are  convinced  that  wre  may  expect  a  vig¬ 
orous  display  of  its  capacities,  it  will  mysteriously  lapse.  AW  this 
may  terribly  disconcert  us.  It  may  tempt  us  into  angry  declara¬ 
tions  that  such  an  incalculable  existence  is  unworthy  of  scientific 
attention  —  is  fanciful,  is  unreal.  But  the  only  lesson  which  we 
ought  to  learn  is  that  methods  adapted  for  one  state  of  things  are 
bound  to  prove  themselves  futile  when  applied  to  another.  If  we 
are  employed  in  observing  a  life  which  has  its  ground  and  its  end 
in  a  world  beyond  the  present,  then  all  methods  framed  for  the 
express  and  definite  purpose  of  examining  life  as  it  exists  here  and 
now,  will  necessarily  prove  themselves  ludicrously  inapt.  The 
futility,  the  barrenness,  the  ineptitude  of  our  researches,  lies,  not 
with  the  faith  against  which  we  level  our  irritable  complaints,  but 
with  the  methods  which,  by  their  very  terms  of  definition,  proclaim 
themselves  to  be  misplaced. 

Where,  then,  must  we  dig  to  unearth  the  roots  of  faith?  What 
are  the  conditions  of  its  rise  and  exercise?  Wherein  lie  its 
grounds,  and  the  justification  of  its  claim  ? 

Faith  grounds  itself,  solely  and  wholly,  on  an  inner  and  vital 
relation  of  the  soul  to  its  source.  This  source  is  most  certainly 
elsewhere  ;  it  is  not  within  the  compass  of  the  soul’s  own  activity. 
In  some  mode,  inconceivable  and  mysterious,  our  life  issues  out  of 
an  impenetrable  background  :  and  as  our  life  includes  spiritual 


12 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


elements,  that  background  has  spiritual  factors ;  and  as  our  life  is 
personal,  within  that  background  exists  personality.  This  supply  of 
life  in  which  we  begin,  from  out  of  which  our  being  opens,  can 
never  cease,  so  long  as  we  exist,  to  sustain  us  by  one  continuous 
act.  Ever  its  resources  flow  in ;  ever  its  vital  support  is  unwith¬ 
drawn.  In  some  fashion  or  other,  we  all  know  that  this  must 
be  so  ;  and  the  Christian  Creed  only  lifts  into  clear  daylight,  and 
endows  with  perfect  expression,  this  elementary  and  universal  verity, 
when  it  asserts  that  at  the  very  core  of  each  man’s  being  lies,  and 
lives,  and  moves,  and  works,  the  creative  energy  of  the  Divine  Will, 
—  ‘  The  Will  of  our  Father  Which  is  in  heaven.’ 

We  stand,  by  the  necessities  of  our  existence,  in  the  relationship 
of  sons  to  a  Father,  Who  has  poured  out  into  us,  and  still  pours, 
the  vigor  of  His  own  life.  This  is  the  one  basis  of  all  faith. 
Unless  this  relationship  actually  exists,  there  could  be  no  faith  :  if 
it  exists,  then  faith  is  its  essential  corollary :  it  is  bound  to  appear. 
Our  faith  is  simply  the  witness  to  this  inner  bond  of  being.  That 
bond,  which  is  the  secret  of  our  entire  existence,  accounting  for  all 
that  we  are,  or  do,  or  feel,  or  think,  or  say,  must  become  capable 
of  recognition  by  a  being  that  is,  in  any  sense,  free,  intelligent, 
conscious ;  and  this  recognition  by  us  of  the  source  from  whence 
we  derive,  is  what  we  mean  by  faith.  Faith  is  the  sense  in  us  that 
we  are  Another’s  creature,  Another’s  making.  Even  as  we  not 
only  feel,  but  feel  that  we  feel ;  not  only  think,  but  know  that 
we  think  ;  not  only  choose,  but  determine  to  choose  :  so,  below 
and  within  all  our  willing,  and  thinking,  and  feeling,  we  are  con¬ 
scious  of  Another,  whose  mind  and  will  alone  make  possible  both 
the  feeling  that  we  feel,  and  also  the  capacity  to  feel  it ;  both 
the  thought  that  we  think,  and  also  the  capacity  to  know  it ;  both 
the  will  that  we  put  forth,  as  well  as  the  power  to  determine 
it.  Every  act,  every  desire,  every  motive  of  ours,  is  dependent  on 
the  source  out  of  sight :  we  hang  on  Another’s  will ;  we  are  alive 
in  Another’s  life.  All  our  life  is  a  discovery,  a  disclosure,  of  this 
secret.  We  find  it  out  only  by  living.  As  we  put  out  powers  that 
seem  to  be  our  own,  still  even  in  and  by  the  very  act  of  putting 
them  out,  we  reveal  them  to  be  not  our  own ;  we  discover  that  we 
are  always  drawing  on  unseen  resources.  We  are  sons  :  that  is 
the  root-law  of  our  entire  self.  And  faith  is  the  active  instinct  of 
that  inner  sonship ;  it  is  the  point  at  which  that  essential  sonship 
emerges  into  consciousness ;  it  is  the  disclosure  to  the  self  of  its 
own  vital  secret ;  it  is  the  thrill  of  our  inherent  childhood,  as  it 
makes  itself  felt  within  the  central  recesses  of  life ;  it  is  the  flame 
that  shoots  into  consciousness  at  the  recognition  of  the  touch  of 


I.  Faith. 


13 

our  divine  fatherhood  ;  it  is  the  immediate  response  of  the  sonship 
in  us  to  its  discovered  origin. 

Faith,  then,  is  an  instinct  of  relationship  based  on  an  inner 
actual  fact.  And  its  entire  office  and  use  lies  in  realizing  the 
secret  feet.  For  the  bond  is  spiritual ;  and  it  can  only  realize 
itself  in  a  spirit  that  has  become  aware  of  its  own  laws.  No 
blind  animal  acceptance  of  the  divine  assistance  can  draw  out  the 
powers  of  this  sonship.  The  reception  of  the  assistance  must 
itself  be  conscious,  loving,  intelligent,  willing.  The  natural  world 
can  receive  its  full  capacities  from  God  without  recognition  of  the 
source  whence  they  flow  in  :  but  this  absence  of  living  recognition 
forbids  it  ever  to  surpass  those  fixed  limits  of  development  which 
we  name  ‘  natural.’  But  a  creature  of  God  that  could  not  only 
receive,  but  recognize  that  it  received,  would,  by  that  very  recogni¬ 
tion,  lay  itself  open  to  an  entirely  novel  development ;  it  would  be 
susceptible  of  infinitely  higher  influences  shed  down  upon  it  from 
God ;  it  would  admit  far  finer  and  richer  inpourings  of  divine  suc¬ 
cors  ;  it  would  be  fed,  not  only  from  underground  channels  as  it 
were,  but  by  fresh  inlets  which  its  consciousness  of  its  adherence 
in  God  would  uncover  and  set  in  motion.  The  action  of  God 
upon  His  creatures  would  be  raised  to  a  new  level  of  possibility : 
for  a  living  and  intelligent  will  has  capacities  of  receptivity  which 
were  altogether  excluded  so  long  as  God  merely  gave,  and  the 
creature  blindly  and  dumbly  took.  Faith,  then,  opens  an  entirely 
new  career  for  creaturely  existence ;  and  the  novelty  of  this  career 
is  expressed  in  the  word  ‘  supernatural.’  The  ‘  supernatural  ’  world 
opens  upon  us  as  soon  as  faith  is  in  being.1 

And  this  career,  it  will  be  seen,  is  markedly  distinct  from  the 
natural  in  this,  —  that  it  is  capable  of  ever-advancing  expansion.  All 
natural  things  which  blindly  accept  their  life  from  God,  must, 
perforce,  have  a  decreed  and  certified  development,  limited  by 
the  conditions  in  which  they  are  found  existing.  Their  recep¬ 
tivity  is  a  fixed  quantity,  determined  by  the  character  imposed  upon 
them  at  creation,  and  bound  to  come  to  an  abrupt  arrest  at  some 
precise  point.2  But  receptivity  through  conscious  recognition  is 

1  The  word  ‘supernatural  ’  is  obviously  misleading,  since  it  seems  to  imply 
that  the  higher  spiritual  levels  of  life  are  not  ‘  natural.’  Of  course,  the  higher 
the  life,  the  more  intensely  ‘natural  ’  it  is  ;  and  the  nature  of  God  must  be  the 
supreme  expression  of  the  natural.  But  the  word  ‘supernatural  ’  is,  in  real¬ 
ity,  only  concerned  with  the  partial  and  conventional  use  of  ‘  nature,’  as  a 
term  under  which  we  sum  up  all  that  constitutes  this  present  and  visible 
system  of  things. 

2  It  is  this  point  of  arrest  which  is  reached  and  revealed  by  the  process  of 
Evolution  under  the  pressure  of  Natural  Selection. 


14 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


open  to  a  development  of  which  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  fix  the 
limits.  For  this  living  recognition  itself  advances  in  its  capacity  to 
see  and  understand.  Every  act  by  which  it  recognizes  the  Giver  in 
the  gifts,  heightens  and  intensifies  its  power  to  recognize  Him  ;  and 
every  increase  of  its  power  to  recognize  Him  increases  also  its 
capacity  to  receive  ;  and  this  increase  will  again  react  on  the  facul¬ 
ties  of  recognition.  A  vision  opens  out  of  spiritual  growth,  in 
which  every  step  forward  made  through  incoming  grace,  makes  a 
new  step  possible,  finds  a  fresh  grace  ever  waiting  to  crown  its 
latest  gift  with  ever  new  endowment.  The  sonship  that  is  at  work 
underground  in  man,  below  the  level  of  consciousness,  at  the  hid¬ 
den  base  of  faith,  is  one  that  holds  in  it  capacities  which  can  only 
be  evoked  under  the  appeals  of  a  living  and  voluntary  faith.  Faith 
is  the  discovery  of  an  inherent  sonship,  which,  though  already 
sealed  to  it,  already  in  action,  nevertheless  cannot  but  withhold 
its  more  rich  and  splendid  energies  until  this  discovery  is  made ; 
and  which  discloses  them  only  according  to  the  progressive  clear¬ 
ness  and  force  with  which  the  process  of  discovery  advances.  The 
history  of  faith  is  the  history  of  this  gradual  disclosure,  this 
growing  capacity  to  recognize  and  receive,  until  the  rudimen¬ 
tary  omen  of  God’s  fatherhood  in  the  rudest  savage,  who  draws 
by  clumsy  fetich  or  weird  incantation,  upon  a  power  outside  him¬ 
self,  closes  its  long  story  in  the  absolute  recognition,  the  perfect 
and  entire  receptivity,  of  that  Son  of  man  who  can  do  nothing 
of  Himself  ‘  but  what  He  seeth  the  Father  do,’  and  for  that  very 
reason  can  do  everything ;  for  whatsoever  1  the  Father  doeth,  the 
Son  doeth  also.’ 

Faith,  then,  is  not  only  the  recognition  by  man  of  the  secret 
source  of  his  being,  but  it  is  itself,  also,  the  condition  under  which 
the  powers,  that  issue  from  that  source,  make  their  arrival  within 
him.  The  sonship,  already  germinal,  completes  itself,  realizes 
itself  in  man,  through  his  faith.  Not  only  is  the  unconscious 
human  nature  held  by  attachment  to  the  Father  who  feeds  it  with 
hidden  succors,  but  faith  is,  itself,  the  power  by  which  the  con¬ 
scious  life  attaches  itself  to  God ;  it  is  an  apprehensive  motion  of 
the  living  spirit,  by  which  it  intensifies  its  touch  on  God ;  it  is  an 
instinct  of  surrender,  by  which  it  gives  itself  to  the  fuller  handling 
of  God  :  it  is  an  affection  of  the  will,  by  which  it  presses  up  against 
God,  and  drinks  in  divine  vitality  with  quickened  receptivity.1 

What  then  will  be  its  characteristics?  We  have  only  to  keep 
close  to  the  conception  of  sonship,  and  we  shall  understand  them 

1  Faith  is  spoken  of,  here  and  elsewhere,  in  its  perfect  and  true  form, 
as  if  unthwarted  by  the  misdirection  and  hurt  of  sin. 


I.  Faith. 


*5 


well  enough.  Faith  is  the  attitude,  the  temper,  of  a  son  towards 
a  father.  That  is  a  relationship  that  we  all  can  understand  for 
ourselves.  We  know  it,  in  spite  of  all  the  base  and  cruel  corrup¬ 
tions  under  which,  in  the  homes  of  man,  its  beauty  lies  disfigured. 
Still,  beneath  disguises,  we  catch  sight,  in  rare  and  happy  condi¬ 
tions,  of  that  beautiful  intimacy  which  can  spring  up  between  a 
son  and  a  father,  where  love  is  one  with  reverence,  and  duty  ful¬ 
fils  itself  in  joy.  Such  a  sonship  is  like  a  spiritual  instinct,  which 
renders  intelligible  to  the  son  every  mood  and  gesture  of  the 
father.  His  very  blood  moves  in  rhythm  to  the  father’s  motives. 
His  soul  hangs,  for  guidance,  on  the  father’s  eyes  :  to  him,  each 
motive  of  the  father  justifies  itself  as  a  satisfying  inspiration.  The 
father’s  will  is  lelt  deliciously  encompassing  him  about ;  enclosed 
within  it,  his  own  will  works,  glad  and  free  in  its  fortifying  obedi¬ 
ence.  Such  a  relationship  as  this  needs  no  justifying  sanction 
beyond  itself ;  it  is  its  own  sanction,  its  own  authority,  its  own 
justification.  ‘  He  is  my  lather  :  ’  that  is  a  sufficient  reason  for  all 
this  sympathetic  response  to  another’s  desire.  ‘  I  am  his  son  :  * 
that  is  the  final  premise  in  which  all  argument  comes  to  a  close. 
The  willing  surrender  of  the  heart  is  the  witness  to  a  fact  which 
is  beyond  argument,  which  accepts  no  denial,  yet  which  is  no 
tyrannous  fate,  but  is  a  living  and  animating  bond  of  blood,  which 
it  is  a  joy  to  recognize,  and  an  inspiration  to  confess. 

It  is  in  such  a  spirit  of  sonship  that  faith  reveals  and  realizes 
itself.  Faith  is  that  temper  of  sympathetic  and  immediate  re¬ 
sponse  to  Another’s  will  which  belongs  to  a  recognized  relationship 
of  vital  communion.  It  is  the  spirit  of  confident  surrender,  which 
can  only  be  justified  by  an  inner  identification  of  life.  Its  primary 
note,  therefore,  will  be  trust,  —  that  trust  of  Another,  which  needs 
no  ulterior  grounds  on  which  to  base  itself,  beyond  what  is  in¬ 
volved  in  the  inherent  law  of  this  life.  Faith  will  ever  discover, 
when  its  reasons  for  action,  or  belief,  are  traced  to  their  last  source, 
that  it  arrives  at  a  point  where  its  only  and  all-sufficient  plea  will 
be  ‘  God  is  my  Father  :  I  am  His  child.’  That  relationship  is  its 
root ;  on  the  top  of  that  relationship  faith  works  ;  as  a  witness  to 
that  relationship,  it  puts  forth  all  the  spiritual  temper  which,  of 
necessity,  follows  on  this  intimacy  of  contact. 

And,  here,  we  find  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  the  law  by  which 
faith  claims  to  be  universal.  Unless  this  inner  relationship  be  a 
fact,  faith  could  not  account  for  itself :  but  if  it  be  a  fact,  it  must 
constitute  a  fixed  and  necessary  demand  upon  all  men.  All  are, 
equally,  1  children  of  God  ;  ’  and  the  answer  to  the  question,  4  Why 
should  I  believe  ?  ’  must  be,  forever  and  for  all,  valid  :  4  Because 


1 6  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

you  are  a  child  of  God.’  Faith  is  nothing  but  the  spiritual  temper 
and  attitude,  which  belong,  inherently,  to  such  a  fact.  No  one 
can  escape  from  such  a  claim  :  for  his  existence  constitutes  the 
claim.  If  he  be  a  child,  it  must  be  demanded  of  him,  that  he 
should  display  the  characteristics  of  his  childhood :  the  father 
must,  of  necessity,  be  concerned  with  the  question  of  his  own 
recognition  by  his  son.  Our  manhood  lies  in  this  essential  son- 
ship  :  and,  if  so,  then  to  be  without  faith,  without  the  conscious 
realization  of  the  sonship,  is  to  be  without  the  fulness  of  a  man’s 
proper  nature.  It  is  to  be  inhuman  :  to  be  curtailed  of  the  natural 
development :  to  be  maimed  and  thwarted.  It  means  that  the 
vital  outcome  of  the  inner  verity  has  been  arrested ;  that  the  sen¬ 
sitive  perceptions  have  been  blunted  and  stunted ;  that  the  sonship 
in  us  has,  somehow,  lost  touch  with  its  true  fatherhood. 

We  learn  at  once,  as  we  consider  this,  the  interpretation  of  that 
two-sided  character,  which  surprises  us  in  God’s  dealings  with 
men  ;  i.  e.,  the  imperative  rigor  of  His  stated  requirements,  coupled 
with  His  wide  and  patient  tolerance,  in  actual  fact. 

As  a  Father  of  all,  He  cannot,  conceivably,  be  satisfied  with 
anything  short  of  complete  recognition  by  His  children.  He 
must  look  for  faith ;  He  must  require  it  of  them  all ;  He  must 
leave  no  means  untried  by  which  to  secure  it ;  He  must  seek  to 
win  it  at  all  costs ;  His  love  is  inevitably  and  cruelly  hindered, 
unless  He  can  obtain  it :  and  when  He  obtains  it,  He  must  pas¬ 
sionately  desire  to  establish,  evoke,  develop,  perfect  it :  for  each 
rise  in  faith  is  a  rise  in  capacities  of  intercourse,  of  intimacy, 
between  Father  and  son.  We  see  how  strenuous  and  zealous 
will  be  His  efforts  to  build  up  faith  in  men ;  we  understand  how 
urgent,  and  pressing,  and  alarming  will  become  His  entreaties, 
His  warnings,  His  menaces,  His  appeals,  if  faith  is  allowed  to 
slide  or  fail.  Loss  of  faith  means  a  shattered  home,  a  ruptured 
intimacy,  a  sundered  love ;  it  means  that  a  Father  must  look  on 
while  the  very  nature  He  has  made  in  His  image  shrivels  and 
shrinks,  and  all  hope  of  growth,  of  advancing  familiarity,  of 
increasing  joy,  of  assured  sympathy,  is  cut  down  and  blighted. 
We  all  know  the  bitterness  of  a  breach  which  scatters  a  family 
into  fragments ;  and  that  is  but  a  faint  shadow  of  all  which  the 
great  Father  sees  to  be  involved  in  the  broken  contact  between 
Himself  and  His  son.  What  standard  have  we  by  which  to  sound 
the  abyss  of  divine  disappointment,  as  God  waits  ready  with  gift 
upon  gift  of  endless  grace  which  He  will  pour  out  upon  the  child 
of  His  love,  as  the  endless  years  open  out  new  wonders  of  advan¬ 
cing  intimacy  ;  and  lo  !  the  channel  by  which  alone  the  gifts  can 


I.  Faith. 


1 7 


reach  him,  is  choked  and  closed?  Faith  is  the  son’s  receptivity ; 
it  is  that  temper  of  trust,  which  makes  the  entry  of  succors  pos¬ 
sible  ;  it  is  the  medium  of  response  ;  it  is  the  attitude  of  adherence 
to  the  Father,  by  virtue  of  which  communications  can  pass.  If  faith 
goes,  all  further  action  of  God  upon  the  soul,  all  fresh  arrival  of 
power,  is  made  impossible:  The  channel  of  intercourse  is  blocked. 

The  demand,  then,  for  faith  by  God  is  bound  to  be  exacting, 
and  urgent,  and  universal.  But,  then,  this  demand  holds  in 
reserve  a  ground  of  hope,  of  patience,  of  tolerance,  of  charity, 
which  we  can  in  no  single  instance  venture  to  limit.  For  the 
faith,  which  it  rigorously  asks  for,  reposes,  as  we  see,  on  an  inner 
and  essential  relationship,  already  existent,  which  knits  man  to  his 
God.  Not  even  the  Fall,  with  all  its  consequent  accumulations  of 
sin,  can  avail  to  wholly  undo  this  primitive  condition  of  existence. 
The  fatherhood  of  God  still  sustains  its  erring  children ;  the 
divine  image  is  blurred,  but  not  blotted  out.  Still,  at  the  close  of 
the  long  days,  our  Lord  can  speak  to  the  wondering  men  who 
flock  about  Him,  of  One  Who  is  even  now  their  Father  in  heaven. 
This  objective  and  imperishable  relationship,  the  underlying  ground 
of  all  our  being,  is  the  pre-supposition  of  all  faith,  without  which 
it  would  itself  be  impossible.  And,  this  being  so,  God  can  afford 
to  wait  very  long  for  faith  to  show  itself.  So  long  as  its  primary 
condition  is  there,  there  is  always  hope.  The  stringent  demand  is 
not  inspired  by  the  mind  of  a  lawgiver,  nor  pressed  home  with 
the  austerity  of  a  judge  ;  it  expresses  the  hunger  of  a  father’s 
heart  to  win  the  confidence  and  to  evoke  the  capacities  of  the 
children  of  its  love.  Such  a  hunger  is,  indeed,  more  rigorous  and 
exact  than  the  letter  of  any  law  :  it  aspires  after  a  more  accurate 
correspondence  ;  it  is  sensitive  to  more  delicate  distinctions  :  but, 
nevertheless,  it  holds,  in  its  fatherliness,  far  wider  capacities  of 
toleration  than  lawgiver  or  judge.  That  same  heart  of  the  father, 
which  in  its  hunger  of  love  is  so  exacting,  will,  out  of  the  same 
hunger,  never  despair,  and  never  forsake  :  it  will  never  cease  from 
the  pursuit  of  that  responsive  trust  which  it  desires ;  it  will  make 
allowances,  it  will  permit  delays,  it  will  weave  excuses,  it  will 
endure  rebuffs,  it  will  condescend  to  persuasion,  it  will  forget  all 
provocations,  it  will  wait,  it  will  plead,  it  will  repeat  its  pleas,  it  will 
take  no  refusal,  it  will  overleap  all  obstacles,  it  will  run  risks,  it  will 
endlessly  and  untiringly  forgive,  if  only,  at  the  last,  the  stubborn 
child-heart  yield,  and  the  tender  response  of  faith  be  won. 

Here,  then,  we  seem  to  see  why  the  nature  of  faith  allows  for 
two  points  which  surprise  us  in  God’s  dealings,  as  if  with  a  contra¬ 
diction.  On  the  one  hand,  we  hear  Him,  through  prophet  and 

o 


1 8  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

priest,  insisting,  with  severe  precision,  on  the  necessity  of  a  right 
and  accurate  faith.  On  the  other,  we  cannot  but  recognize,  in  the 
open  area  of  actual  life,  the  evidences  of  a  wide  and  almost  bound¬ 
less  toleration.  Again  and  again  it  must  have  seemed  to  us  that 
the  Church  and  the  world  gave,  thus,  antithetical  evidence  of 
God’s  character.  Yet,  in  truth,  both  speak  the  voice  of  one  and 
the  same  God,  Who,  in  His  undivided  love,  both  passionately 
seeks  for  the  delicate  and  direct  response  of  an  accurate  faith ; 
and  also,  in  order  not  to  lose  this  final  joy,  1  suffereth  long,  and  is 
kind,  beareth  all  things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  en- 
dureth  all  things.’  Yes ;  has  even  to  endure  that  men  should  pit 
His  toleration  against  His  love,  and  should  argue  that,  because  He 
will  wait  so  long  and  quietly  for  the  fruit  that  He  desires  to  reap, 
therefore  He  does  not  desire  the  fruit.  In  reality,  the  degree  of 
the  toleration,  with  which  God  will  patiently  wait  for  the  fruits  of 
faith,  is  the  measure  of  the  extremity  of  His  desire  for  it.  Just 
because  He  wants  it  so  much,  He  waits  so  long. 

III.  If  faith,  then,  be  the  witness  and  the  exercise  of  our  sonship 
in  God,  we  can  recognize  at  once  the  place  it  will  hold  among 
the  other  powers  and  capacities  of  our  nature.  We  are  so  un¬ 
fortunately  apt  to  rank  it  as  one  among  many  faculties,  and  then 
to  find  ourselves  engaged  in  agitating  controversies  concerning  its 
limits  and  its  claims.  We  have  to  secure  for  it,  against  the  rest,  a 
field  for  free  dominion  ;  and  that  field  is  hard  to  define ;  and  rival 
powers  beset  it ;  and  there  are  raids  and  skirmishes  on  every  fron¬ 
tier  ;  and  reason  is  ever  making  violent  incursions  on  the  one  side, 
and  feeling  is  actively  besieging  it  on  the  other ;  and  the  scientific 
frontiers,  which  we  are  ever  on  the  point  of  fixing,  shift,  and 
change,  and  vanish,  as  soon  as  we  determine  them  ;  and  the 
whole  force  of  Christian  apologetics  is  spent  in  aimless  and  barren 
border-warfare. 

But  if  what  we  have  been  saying  be  true,  the  whole  trouble  turns 
on  a  mistake.  Faith  is  not  to  be  ranked  by  the  side  of  the  other 
faculties  in  a  federation  of  rival  powers,  but  is  behind  them  all.  It 
goes  back  to  a  deeper  root ;  it  springs  from  a  more  primitive  and 
radical  act  of  the  central  self  than  they.  It  belongs  to  that  ori¬ 
ginal  spot  of  our  being,  where  it  adheres  in  God,  and  draws  on 
divine  resources.  Out  from  that  spot  our  powers  divide,  radiating 
into  separate  gifts,  —  will,  memory,  feeling,  reason,  imagination, 
affection ;  but  all  of  them  are  but  varying  expressions  of  that 
essential  sonship  which  is  their  base.  And  all,  therefore,  run 
back  into  that  home  where  faith  abides,  and  works,  and  rises,  and 
expands.  At  the  root  of  all  our  capacities  lies  our  sonship  ;  at  the 


I.  Faith. 


19 


root  of  all  our  conscious  life  lies  faith,  the  witness  of  our  sonship. 
By  adherence  in  God  we  put  out  our  gifts,  we  exercise  our  func¬ 
tions,  we  develop  our  faculties ;  and  faith,  therefore,  far  from  being 
their  rival,  whom  they  are  interested  in  suspecting,  and  curbing, 
and  confining  within  its  limits,  is  the  secret  spring  of  their  force, 
and  the  inspiration  of  their  growth  and  the  assurance  of  their 
success.  All  our  knowledge,  for  instance,  relies  upon  our  son- 
ship  ;  it  starts  with  an  act  of  faith.1  We  throw  ourselves,  with 
the  confidence  of  children,  upon  an  external  world,  which  offers 
itself  to  our  vision,  to  our  touch,  to  our  review,  to  our  calcu¬ 
lation,  to  our  handling,  to  our  use.  Who  can  assure  us  of 
its  reality,  of  its  truth  ?  We  must  measure  it  by  those  faculties 
under  the  manipulation  of  which  it  falls.  But  how  can  the  faculties 
guarantee  to  us  their  own  accuracy?  How  can  we  justify  an 
extension  of  our  own  inner  necessities  to  the  world  of  outward 
things?  How  can  we  attribute  to  nature  that  rational  and  causa¬ 
tive  existence  which  we  find  ourselves  forced  to  assume  in  it? 
Our  justification,  our  confidence,  —  all  issue,  in  the  last  resort, 
from  our  sonship.  Our  powers  have,  in  them,  some  likeness  to 
those  of  God.  If  He  be  our  Father,  if  we  be  made  in  His  image, 
then,  in  our  measure,  we  can  rely  upon  it  that  we  close  with  Nature 
in  its  reality ;  that  our  touch,  our  sight,  our  reason,  have  some 
hold  on  the  actual  life  of  things ;  that  we  see  and  know  in  some 
such  manner,  after  our  degree,  as  God  Himself  sees  and  knows. 
In  unhesitating  reliance  upon  our  true  sonship,  we  sally  out  and 
deal  with  the  world  ;  we  act  upon  the  sure  conviction  that  we  are 
not  altogether  outside  the  secret  of  objective  existence.  We  re¬ 
fuse  absolutely  to  doubt,  or  go  behind  the  reports  made  to  us  by 
feeling,  by  memory,  by  thought.  If  once  we  are  clear  as  to  what 
the  report  is,  we  rest  on  it ;  we  ask  for  no  power  to  stand  (as  it 
were)  outside  our  own  experience,  our  own  knowledge,  so  as  to 
assure  ourselves  of  their  veracity.  We  are  certain  that  eur  Father 
cannot  have  misguided  us  ;  that  we  are  within  His  influence  ;  that 
we  are  in  modified  possession  of  His  truth  ;  that  our  capacities 
reflect  His  mind.  We  could  not  have  so  confidently  recognized, 
understood,  and  handled  the  world  if  it  had  been  wholly  foreign 
to  us.  As  it  is,  we  lay  instinctive  hold  upon  it ;  we  take  spon¬ 
taneous  possession ;  we  exert  authority  upon  it ;  we  feel  our 
inherent  right  over  it ;  we  are  at  home  in  it ;  we  move  freely 
about  it,  as  children  in  a  father’s  house.  Acting  in  this  faith,  all 
our  capacities  justify  themselves  to  us  ;  they  respond  to  our  reli¬ 
ance  upon  them  \  they  develop  into  ever-advancing  strength  under 

1  Cf.  pp.  87,  88. 


20 


The  Religion  of  the  Incar jmtioji. 


the  motions  of  this  trust ;  they  form  a  continual  and  increasing 
witness  to  the  verity  of  that  sonship  in  which  we  have  believed. 

Faith,  then,  belongs  to  our  entire  body  of  activities.  We  live 
by  faith.  By  faith,  under  the  inspiration  of  faith,  we  put  out  our 
life,  we  set  to  work,  we  exercise  faculties,  we  close  with  our  oppor¬ 
tunities,  we  have  confidence  in  our  environment,  we  respond  to 
calls,  we  handle  critical  emergencies,  we  send  out  far  abroad  our 
experimental  intelligence,  we  discover,  we  accumulate  experiences, 
we  build,  and  plant,  and  develop.  An  elemental  act  of  faith  lies 
at  the  root  of  all  this  advance ;  and  every  motion  that  we  make, 
demands  a  renewal  of  that  primitive  venture.  In  all  secular  pro¬ 
gress  ‘  we  walk  by  faith.’  Every  step  revives  the  demand.  Just  as 
the  earth,  if  it  necessitates  the  idea  of  a  primal  creation,  requires, 
by  exactly  the  same  necessity,  an  incessant  renewal  of  that  first 
creative  act,  so  our  life,  if  it  required  faith  to  start  it,  requires  faith 
every  moment  to  sustain  it.  Our  faculties  never  arrive  at  a  use 
which  is  self-dependent  and  self-originated,  as  if  they  could  grow 
beyond  the  tentative  conditions  of  their  earliest  essays.  They  ori¬ 
ginate  in  a  venturous  experiment ;  and,  however  long  and  however 
complicated  that  experiment  become,  it  retains  its  original  charac¬ 
ter  ;  it  remains  experimental  to  the  end.  The  results ,  no  doubt, 
justify  the  venture  made  ;  but,  then,  the  first  venture  involved  such 
immense  assumptions  that  no  results  reached  can  ever  complete  its 
justification,  and  so  remove  its  tentative  nature.  For,  by  assuming  a 
real  correspondence  between  our  faculties  and  the  world  with  which 
they  deal,  it  assumed  that  such  a  correspondence  would  never  fail 
us  ;  would  be  capable  of  infinite  verification  ;  would  prove  adequate 
to  all  possible  experiences  ;  would  receive  indefinite  and  progressive 
extension.  No  verifications  ever  reached  can,  then,  exhaust  the 
faith  of  that  primitive  venture  ;  they  can  only  serve  to  exhibit  to 
it  how  far  more  was  contained  within  that  venture  than  it  could 
ever  have  conceived.  New  knowledge,  new  experience,  far  from 
expunging  the  elements  of  faith,  make  ever  fresh  demands  upon 
it ;  they  constitute  perpetual  appeals  to  it  to  enlarge  its  trust,  to 
expand  its  original  audacity.  And  yet  the  very  vastness  of  those 
demands  serves  to  obscure  and  conceal  their  true  character.  This 
is  the  key  to  much  of  our  present  bewilderment.  The  worlds  of 
knowledge  and  of  action  have  assumed  such  huge  proportions, 
have  accumulated  such  immense  and  complicated  resources,  have 
gained  such  supreme  confidence  in  their  own  stability,  have  pushed 
forward  their  successes  with  such  startling  power  and  rapidity,  that 
we  have  lost  count  of  their  primal  assumption.  In  amazement  at 
their  stupendous  range,  we  are  overawed  ;  we  dare  not  challenge 


I.  Faith. 


21 


them  with  their  hypothetical  origin,  or  remind  them  that  their  en¬ 
tire  and  wonderful  structure  is  but  an  empty  and  hollow  dream, 
unless  they  are  prepared  to  place  their  uttermost  trust  in  an  un¬ 
verified  act  of  faith.  Given  that  trust  which  relies  on  the  reality 
of  the  bond  which  holds  between  our  inner  faculties  and  the  outer 
world,  then  all  this  marvellous  vision  is  rooted  on  a  rock,  has  va¬ 
lidity  and  substance.  Withdraw  that  spiritual  trust  in  our  sonship, 
and  all  this  fairy-world,  won  for  us  by  science  and  experience, 

“  The  cloud-capp’d  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 

The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 

Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve 
And,  like  an  insubstantial  pageant  faded, 

Leave  not  a  rack  behind.” 


Our  secular  and  scientific  life  is  an  immense  experiment  in  faith, 
—  an  experiment  which  verifies  itself  by  success,  but  which  justifies 
itself  only  if  it  remembers  to  attribute  all  its  success  to  the  reality 
of  that  hidden  relationship  to  God  which  is  the  key  to  all  its  capa¬ 
cities,  the  justification  of  all  its  confidence,  and  the  security  of  all 
its  advance. 

Such  a  remembrance  is  not  easy  for  it :  for  the  exercise  of  the 
capacities  is  instinctive  and  spontaneous,  and  it  requires  an  effort 
of  reflection  to  question  the  validity  of  such  exercise.  And  such 
an  effort  seems  tiresome  and  impertinent  in  the  heat  of  successful 
progress,  in  the  thick  of  crowding  conquests.  The  practical  man  is 
apt  to  give  an  irritated  stamp  on  the  ground,  which  to  him  feels 
so  solid,  and  to  deem  this  a  sufficient  answer  to  the  importu¬ 
nate  inquiry  how  he  knows  that  he  has  any  substantial  world  to 
know  and  to  handle.  For  faith  lies  behind  our  secular  life,  secreted 
within  it :  and  the  secular  life,  therefore,  can  go  on  as  if  no  faith 
was  wanted  ;  it  need  not  trouble  its  head  with  perplexing  questions, 
whether  its  base  be  verifiable  by  the  same  standards  and  measures 
as  its  superstructure.  Its  own  practical  activity  is  complete  and 
free,  whether  it  discover  its  hidden  principle  or  not ;  just  as  M. 
Jourdain’s  conversation  was  complete  and  free,  long  before  he  dis¬ 
covered  that  he  was  talking  prose.  We  have  to  stand  outside  our 
secular  life  and  reflect  on  it  to  disclose  its  true  spring.  The 
appeal  to  faith  here  is  indirect. 

But,  in  religion,  this  hidden  activity  is  evoked  by  a  direct  appeal ; 
it  is  unearthed  ;  it  is  summoned  to  come  forward  on  its  own  account. 
God  demands  of  this  secret  and  innermost  vitality  that  it  should  no 
longer  lie  incased  within  the  other  capacities,  but  that  it  should 
throw  off  its  sheltering  covers  and  should  emerge  into  positive 


22 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


action,  and  should  disclose  its  peculiar  and  native  character. 
God  the  Father  calls  faith  out  of  its  dim  background  into  the 
front  of  the  scene.  He  does  this  under  the  pressure  of  invoca¬ 
tions,  which  address  their  appeals  through,  and  by  means  of,  the 
secular  and  visible  material,  within  and  behind  which  He  is  ever  at 
work.  This  had,  indeed,  always  told  of  His  invisible  and  eternal 
Godhead  :  but  it  did  so  indirectly,  by  requiring  Him  as  its  con¬ 
stant  presupposition  and  base.  Now,  it  is  so  used  as  to  bring 
God  into  direct  and  positive  evidence  by  means  of  acts,  which 
bring  forward  the  energies  of  His  immediate  fatherhood.  All  the 
growth  of  Eden  had  always  testified  to  the  existence  and  the  name 
of  God  ;  but  a  new  stage  was  reached  when  He  was  felt  moving, 
in  evening  hours,  amid  the  trees  of  the  garden.  And  as  the 
Father  presses  forward  out  of  His  silent  background,  so  the  secret 
sonship  in  man  emerges  out  of  its  deep  recesses  in  positive 
response,  using  its  own  secular  faculties  by  which  to  carry  itself 
forward  into  evidence  and  action.  This  definite  and  direct  con¬ 
tact  between  the  God  Who  is  the  hidden  source  of  all  life,  and 
the  faith  which  is  the  hidden  spring  of  all  human  activity ;  this 
disclosure  by  the  Father,  met  by  this  discovery  by  the  son,  this 
is  Religion  ;  and  the  history  of  Religion  is  the  story  of  its  slow 
and  gradual  advance  in  sanity  and  clearness,  until  it  culminates 
in  that  special  disclosure  which  we  call  Revelation  ;  which,  again, 
crowns  itself  in  that  Revelation  of  the  Father  through  the  Son, 
in  which  the  disclosure  of  God  to  man  and  the  discovery  by 
man  of  God  are  made  absolute  in  Him  Who  is  one  with  the 
Father,  knowing  all  that  the  Father  does,  making  known  all 
that  the  Father  is. 

Now  here  we  have  reached  a  parting  of  ways.  For  we  have 
touched  the  point  at  which  the  distinctions  start  out  between 
what  is  secular  and  what  is  sacred  ;  between  virtue  and  godliness  ; 
between  the  world  and  the  Church.  If  ‘  Religion  ’  means  this 
coming  forward  into  the  foreground  of  that  which  is  the  univer¬ 
sal  background  of  all  existence,  then  we  cut  ourselves  free  from 
the  perplexity  which  benumbs  us  when  we  hear  of  the  ‘  Gospel  of 
the  Secular  Life  ;  ’  of  the  ‘Religion  of  Humanity;’  of  doctors  and 
scientific  professors  being  ‘  Ministers  of  Religion  ;  ’  of  the  ‘  Natural 
Religion  ’  which  is  contained  within  the  borders  of  science  with  its 
sense  of  wonder,  or  of  art  with  its  vision  of  beauty.  All  this  is  so 
obviously  true  in  one  sense  that  it  sinks  to  the  level  of  an  amiable 
commonplace  ;  but  if  this  be  the  sense  intended,  why  is  all  this 
emphasis  laid  upon  it?  Yet  if  more  than  this  is  meant,  we  are 
caught  in  a  juggling  maze  of  words,  and  are  losing  hold  on  vital 


i.  Faith. 


23 


distinctions,  and  feel  ourselves  to  be  rapidly  collapsing  into  the 
condition  of  the  unhappy  Ninevites,  who  knew  not  their  right 
hands  from  their  left. 

The  word  4  Religion/  after  all,  has  a  meaning :  and  we  do  not 
get  forward  by  laboring  to  disguise  from  ourselves  this  awkward 
fact.  This  positive  meaning  allows  everything  that  can  be  asked 
in  the  way  of  sanctity  and  worth,  for  nature  and  the  natural  life. 
All  of  it  is  God-given,  God-inspired,  God-directed  ;  all  of  it  is  holy. 
But  the  fact  of  this  being  so  is  one  thing  :  the  recognition  of  it  is 
another ;  and  it  is  this  recognition  of  God  in  things  which  is  the 
core  and  essence  of  religion.  Natural  life  is  the  life  in  God,  which 
has  not  yet  arrived  at  this  recognition  :  it  is  not  yet,  as  such,  reli¬ 
gious.  The  sacred  and  supernatural  office  of  man  is  to  press 
through  his  own  natural  environment,  to  force  his  spirit  through 
the  thick  jungle  of  his  manifold  activities  and  capacities,  to  shake 
himself  free  from  the  encompassing  complexities,  to  step  out  clear 
and  loose  from  all  entanglement,  to  find  himself,  through  and 
beyond  all  his  secular  experiences,  face  to  face  with  a  God,  Who, 
on  His  side,  is  forever  pushing  aside  the  veil  which  suggests  and 
conceals  Him,  forever  disengaging  Himself  from  the  phenomena 
through  which  He  arrives  at  man’s  consciousness,  forever  brushing 
away  the  confusions,  and  coming  out  more  and  more  into  the 
open,  until,  through  and  past  the  4  thunder  comes  a  human  voice ;  ’ 
and  His  eyes  burn  their  way  through  into  man’s  soul ;  and  He 
calls  the  man  by  his  name,  and  takes  him  apart,  and  hides  him  in 
some  high  and  separate  cleft  of  the  rock,  far  from  all  the  glamour 
and  tumult  of  crowded  existence,  and  holds  him  close  in  the  hollow 
of  His  hand  as  He  passes  by,  and  names  to  him,  with  clear  and 
memorable  voice,  the  4  Name  of  the  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful, 
gracious,  long-suffering,  abundant  in  goodness  and  truth,  forgiving 
iniquity,  and  Who  will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty.’  Here  is  Re¬ 
ligion.  It  is  the  arrival  at  the  secret ;  the  discovery  by  the  .son  of 
a  Father,  Who  is  in  all  His  works,  yet  is  distinct  from  them  all, — - 
to  be  recognized,  known,  spoken  with,  loved,  imitated,  worshipped, 
on  His  own  account,  and  for  Himself  alone. 

Religion,  in  this  sense,  is  perfectly  distinct  from  what  is  secular : 
yet,  in  making  this  distinction,  it  brings  no  reproach ;  it  pro¬ 
nounces  nothing  common  or  unclean.  It  only  asks  us  not  to  play 
with  words ;  and  it  reminds  us  that,  in  blurring  this  radical  distinc¬ 
tion,  we  are  undoing  all  the  work  which  it  has  been  the  aim  of 
the  religious  movement  to  achieve.  For  the  history  of  this  move¬ 
ment  is  the  record  of  the  gradual  advance  man  has  made  in  disen¬ 
tangling  4  the  Name  of  God  ’  from  all  its  manifestations.  Religion 


24  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

is  the  effort  to  arrive  at  that  Name,  in  its  separable  identity,  in  its 
personal  and  distinct  significance.  It  is  the  fulfilment  of  the  un¬ 
ceasing  cry,  4  Tell  me  Thy  name  !  ’  In  religion  we  are  engaged  in 
the  age-long  task  of  lifting  the  Name,  clear  and  high,  above  the 
clang  and  roar  of  its  works,  that  through  and  by  means  of  all  that 
He  is,  we  may  pierce  through  to  the  very  God  of  gods,  and  may 
close  with  Him  in  the  blessed  solitude  of  a  love  which  knits  heart 
to  heart  and  spirit  to  spirit,  without  any  withholding  interval,  with 
no  veil  to  hinder  or  intervene. 

The  growth  of  faith,  then,  means  the  gradual  increase  of  this 
personal  contact,  this  spiritual  intimacy  between  Father  and  son. 
To  achieve  this  increasing  apprehension  of  the  Father’s  character 
and  love,  faith  uses,  as  instruments  and  as  channels,  all  its  natural 
faculties,  by  which  to  bring  itself  forward  into  action,  and  through 
which  to  receive  the  communications,  which  arrive  at  it  from  the 
heart  and  will  of  Him,  Who,  on  His  side,  uses  all  natural  opportu¬ 
nities  as  the  material  of  a  speech,  which  is  ever,  as  man’s  ear  be¬ 
comes  sensitive  and  alert,  growing  more  articulate,  and  positive, 
and  personal. 

The  entire  human  nature  —  imagination,  reason,  feeling,  desire 
—  becomes  to  faith  a  vehicle  of  intercourse,  a  mediating  aid  in 
its  friendship  with  God.  But  faith  itself  lies  deeper  than  all  the 
capacities  of  which  it  makes  use  :  it  is,  itself,  the  primal  act  of  the 
elemental  self,  there  at  the  root  of  life,  where  the  being  is  yet 
whole  and  entire,  a  single  personal  individuality,  unbroken  and 
undivided.  Faith,  which  is  the  germinal  act  of  our  love  for  God, 
is  an  act  of  the  whole  self,  there  where  it  is  one,  before  it  has 
parted  off  into  what  we  can  roughly  describe  as  separate  and  dis¬ 
tinguishable  faculties.  It  therefore  uses,  not  one  or  other  of  the 
faculties,  but  all ;  and  in  a  sense  it  uses  them  all  at  once,  just  as 
any  complete  motion  of  will,  or  of  love,  acts  with  all  the  united 
force  of  many  combined  faculties.  A  perfect  act  of  love  would 
combine,  into  a  single  movement,  the  entire  sum  of  faculties,  just 
because  it  proceeds  from  that  basal  self,  which  is  the  substance 
and  unity  of  them  all.  So  with  faith.  Faith,  the  act  of  a  willing 
adhesion  to  God  the  Father,  proceeds  from  a  source  deeper  than 
the  point  at  which  faculties  divide. 

And  this  has  a  most  vital  bearing  on  the  question  of  faith’s 
evidences.  It  is  here  we  touch  on  the  crucial  characteristic 
which  determines  all  our  logical  and  argumentative  position. 

For,  if  a  movement  of  faith  springs  from  a  source  anterior  to 
the  distinct  division  of  faculties,  then  no  one  faculty  can  adequately 
account  for  the  resultant  action.  Each  faculty,  in  its  separate 


I.  Faith. 


25 


stage,  can  account  for  one  element,  for  one  factor,  which  contri¬ 
buted  to  the  result ;  and  that  element,  that  factor,  may  be  of 
greater  or  less  importance,  according  to  the  rank  of  the  faculty  in 
the  entire  self.  But,  if  the  movement  of  faith  has  also  included 
and  involved  many  other  elements  which  appear,  when  analyzed 
out,  in  the  domains  of  the  other  faculties  ;  then  the  account  which 
each  separate  faculty  can  give  of  the  whole  act,  can  never  be 
more  than  partial.  Its  evidence  must  be  incomplete.  If  the 
central  self  has  gathered  its  momentum  from  many  channels,  it  is 
obvious  that  the  amount  contributed  by  any  one  channel  will  be 
unable  to  justify  the  force  exerted,  or  to  explain  the  event  that 
followed.  If  we  track  home  each  faculty  employed  to  this  central 
spring  of  energy,  we  shall  see  that  each  points  to  the  result,  con¬ 
tributes  to  it,  suggests  it ;  but  the  result  will  always  be  more  than 
the  evidence,  so  collected,  can  warrant. 

This  limitation,  which  we  may  allow  about  other  faculties,  is  apt 
to  become  a  stumbling-block  when  we  apply  it  to  the  high  gift  of 
reason.  Reason,  somehow,  seems  to  us  to  rise  into  some  supreme 
and  independent  throne ;  it  reviews  the  other  faculties  ;  and  is, 
therefore,  free  from  their  limitations.  We  fear  to  hint  that  it  has 
any  lord  over  it.  How  can  we  assume  such  a  lordship  without 
dubbing  ourselves  irrational  obscurantists,  who  in  folly  try  to  stamp 
out  the  light  ? 

But  we  are  not,  in  reality,  dreaming  of  limiting  reason  by  any 
limitations  except  those  which  it  makes  for  itself.  We  are  not 
violently  attempting  to  make  reason  stop  short  at  any  point,  where 
it  could  go  on.  We  are  only  asking,  Is  there  any  point  at  which 
it  stops  of  itself,  and  cannot  go  farther?  We  propose  to  use 
reason  right  out,  to  press  it  to  its  utmost  limit,  to  spur  it  to  put 
forth  all  its  powers  ;  and  we  assert  that,  so  doing,  reason  will,  at 
last,  reveal  its  inability  to  get  right  to  the  end,  to  carry  clear  home. 
And  why?  Because  the  self  is  not  onlv  rational,  but  something- 
more  :  it  combines,  with  its  unbroken,  central  individuality,  other 
elements  besides  reason ;  and  therefore,  of  sheer  necessity,  when¬ 
ever  that  central  self  puts  out  an  elemental  act  in  which  the  in- 
,  tegral  spring  of  personal  energy  takes  part,  —  such  as  an  act  of 
will,  or  love,  or  faith,  —  then,  reason  can  be  but  one  factor,  but 
one  element,  however  important,  in  that  issuing  act :  and  if  so, 
then  it  can  give  but  a  partial  account  of  it ;  its  own  contribution 
cannot  wholly  explain,  or  justify  the  result.  In  Bishop  Butler’s 
language,  the  utmost  that  reason  can  do  is  to  make  it  ‘very 
probable.’ 

The  real  root-question  in  this  time-worn  controversy  is  just  this  : 


26 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

Is,  or  is  not,  reason  the  most  primal  and  elemental  act  of  the 
integral  personality  ?  If  it  is,  then,  of  course,  it  regulates  and  de¬ 
termines  all  subordinate  acts.  Everything  must  finally  submit  to 
its  arbitration  ;  for  everything,  if  tracked  back  far  enough,  must 
terminate  in  an  act  of  reason. 

But  if,  as  Christianity  asserts,  the  ultimate  and  elemental  self 
be  a  moral  will,  that  can  believe,  and  love,  then,  though  this  self 
contains  in  it  reason,  it  also  goes  back  behind  reason.  Reason  is 
indeed  one  of  its  essential  elements,  but  it  is  not  its  entire  essence, 
for  this  includes  within  itself,  that  which  appears  as  feeling,  and 
desire,  and  imagination,  and  choice,  and  passion,  as  well  as  that 
which  shows  itself  as  reason.  When,  therefore,  the  self  puts  out 
its  primitive  power,  it  will  do  actions  which  satisfy  reason,  indeed, 
but  which  reason  cannot  exhaustively  analyze,  or  interpret,  since 
the  entire  force  of  reason,  if  it  were  all  brought  into  action,  would 
still  be  only  a  partial  contribution  to  the  effect. 

As  a  fact,  we  all  of  us  are  perfectly  familiar  with  this  limitation, 
in  affairs  of  affection  and  friendship.  We  never  have  here  that 
paralyzing  awe  of  reason  which  haunts  us  in  matters  of  religion. 
We  never  allow  ourselves  to  be  bullied  into  submission  to  its 
supremacy.  We  should  laugh  at  it,  if  it  attempted  to  dictate  to 
us,  or  to  account  for  all  our  motives.  Not  that  we  are  at  war 
with  it,  or  are  shirking  it,  or  are  afraid  of  it.  We  can  have 
affections  and  friendships,  which  have  every  possible  justification 
which  reason  can  offer.  Every  conceivable  expediency  can  unite 
to  authorize  and  approve  them.  Every  interest  may  be  served  by 
them.  They  may  stand  every  test  which  a  cool  common-sense, 
or  a  calm  impartial  judgment,  or  an  acute  calculation  of  conse¬ 
quences  can  apply  to  them.  They  may  be  the  very  embodiment 
of  reason.  And  yet,  by  no  amount  of  calculated  expediencies,  by 
no  pressure  of  rational  considerations,  could  we  dream,  for  one 
moment,  that  our  friendship  was  accounted  for.  If  ever  it  could 
trace  its  origin  to  these  motives,  it  would  cease  to  be  what  we 
thought  it.  The  discovery  would  destroy  it.  All  possible  con¬ 
siderations  and  calculations  might  have  been  present,  and  yet  they 
would  be  utterly  powerless  to  create  in  us  the  love.  And  the  love, 
however  gladly  it  may  recognize  the  approving  considerations, 
would  repudiate,  with  amazement  and  with  laughter,  any  presump¬ 
tion  on  their  part  to  say,  ‘  This  is  why  you  love.’ 

It  is  the  same  with  all  primal  acts  of  heroism.  They  may  be 
absolutely  rational :  yet,  they  would  cease  to  be  heroic,  they  would 
never  be  done,  if  they  did  not  call  upon  a  force,  which,  indeed, 
may  determine  its  direction  by  reason,  but  which  usee  quite  other 


i.  Faith . 


2  7 


motives  to  induce  itself  to  act.  Utilitarianism,  which  attempts  to 
account  for  such  heroic  momentum  by  purely  rational  considera¬ 
tions,  finds  itself  reduced  to  shifts  which  all  those  can  see  through, 
who  refuse  to  be  juggled  out  of  their  own  experiences.  It  is  the 
same  with  all  the  higher  forms  of  moral  energy.  All  of  them  go 
beyond  their  evidences.  They  all  lift  the  rational  motives,  which 
suggest  and  determine  the  direction  of  their  activity,  by  an  impul¬ 
sive  force,  which  has  in  it  the  power  of  initiative,  of  origination. 
Every  high  act  of  will  is  a  new  creation.  As  the  gunpowder 
sleeps  until  the  spark  alights  upon  it,  so  the  directions  of  reason 
remain  below  the  level  of  action  until  the  jet  of  a  living  will  fuses 
its  fire  with  their  material.  The  act  which  results  may,  indeed, 
be  capable  of  complete  interpretation  on  reasonable  grounds  :  it 
may  be  able  to  show  reasons  which  account  for  every  fragment  of 
it :  yet,  still,  the  living  force  which  drew  together  and  combined 
all  those  separate  reasons  into  a  single  resultant  act,  has  a  creative 
and  original  character.  The  series  of  reasons,  however  complete, 
cannot  account  for  the  result,  for  they  cannot  possibly  account  for 
their  own  combination  :  and  without  this  combination  of  their 
momentum  the  result  would  not  be  there. 

It  is  well  to  recall  briefly  this  character  of  the  moral  will,  the 
affections,  the  love  of  man.  For  these  are  faith’s  nearest  and 
dearest  allies.  It  is  here  in  these  elemental  motions  that  faith 
finds  its  closest  parallel.  It  is  something  very  like  an  act  of  will, 
a  movement  of  love,  an  heroic  and  chivalrous  moral  venture. 
And  whenever  we  desire  to  understand  its  relations  to  reason,  we 
must  persistently  recall  the  attitude  towards  reason  taken  by  these 
fundamental  forms  of  energy ;  only  remembering  that  faith  is  yet 
more  elemental,  yet  more  completely  the  act  of  the  central  inte¬ 
gral  self,  even  than  these.  Where  they  leave  reason  behind,  it 
will  do  so  yet  further.  Where  they  call  upon  something  deeper 
and  more  primitive  than  reason,  it  will  do  the  same,  and  yet  more 
triumphantly.  It  is  not  that  either  it  or  they  are  without  reason  ; 
or  that  they  stand  outside  reason,  consulting  it  so  far  as  they 
choose,  and  then  dropping  it ;  it  is  not  that  reason  may  not  be 
found  in  every  corner  and  fragment  of  their  activity,  pervading, 
coloring,  restraining,  limiting,  directing,  justifying  it :  but  simply  that 
what  we  call  the  rational  self  is  not  only  rational,  but  also  some¬ 
thing  more  ;  that,  if  analyzed  out,  the  reason  will  not  appear  as 
the  root  and  core  of  the  man,  but  rather  as  an  element  inhering  in 
a  yet  more  central  base  ;  and  that  whenever  the  energy  of  vital 
action  is  put  out,  we  are  driven  to  look  through  and  beyond  reason, 
if  we  would  unearth  the  source  whence  the  act  springs. 


28  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

The  relation,  then,  of  reason  to  faith  is  not  strange,  or  forced, 
or  unfamiliar  to  us,  if  it  is  much  the  same  as  its  relation  to  the 
affections,  or  to  moral  acts  and  intuitions.  We  know  what  to 
expect,  what  part  it  ought  to  play  in  such  a  case.  As  in  a  case  of 
heroic  moral  daring,  or  high  affection,  so,  in  a  matter  of  faith,  we 
shall  expect  that  reason,  with  its  arguments  and  its  evidences,  will 
play  all  round  and  about  it,  will  go  before  it,  discussing  the  path 
to  follow,  will  follow  after  it,  unravelling  the  secret  forces  at  work 
in  it ;  will  watch,  and  analyze,  and  learn,  and  warn ;  will  recon¬ 
noitre,  and  examine,  and  survey,  and  discover  ;  will  justify,  inter¬ 
pret,  defend,  assist.  But  yet  we  shall  expect,  also,  that  the  act  of 
faith  will  do  more  than  all  the  arguments  can  anticipate ;  that  it 
will  hold  itself  free  from  them  all ;  that  it  will  appeal,  not  to  them, 
but  to  its  own  inherent  force,  for  the  final  decision  ;  that  it  will 
move  by  instinct,  by  spontaneity,  by  inspiration  ;  that  it  will  rush 
past  all  evidences,  in  some  great  stride  ;  that  it  will  brush  through 
scruples  that  cannot  be  gainsaid,  and  obstacles  that  cannot  be  got 
over ;  that  it  will  surprise,  that  it  will  outdo,  that  it  will  create ; 
that  it  will  bring  novel  forces  into  play,  invisible,  unaccountable, 
incalculable  ;  that  it  will  fly,  when  reason  walks  ;  that  it  will  laugh, 
when  reason  trembles  ;  that  it  will  over-leap  barriers  which  reason 
deems  final.  As  with  love,  so  with  faith,  it  will  take  in  all  evi¬ 
dences,  it  will  listen  to  all  proofs  ;  but  when  they  have  done  theii 
utmost,  it  has  yet  got  to  begin ;  it  itself,  after  all  its  calculations, 
must  make  the  actual  spring,  which  is  the  decision.  Out  of  itself, 
it  draws  its  strength  ;  out  of  itself  it  makes  its  effort ;  by  being 
what  it  is,  it  sees  what  it  sees,  it  does  what  it  does.  It  uses  the 
evidence ;  but  uses  it  to  leap  from,  to  go  farther.  Its  motives, 
advances,  efforts,  issue  from  within  itself.  Just  as  the  lover’s  final 
answer  to  the  question,  1  Why  did  you  do  that?  ’  must  be,  ‘  Because 
I  loved ;  ’  so  the  final  answer  of  the  believer,  in  explanation  of  an 
act,  can  never  be  wrung  out  of  the  reasonable  grounds  for  so  acting  : 
it  must  always  be,  ‘  Because  I  believed.’  Just  as  man  first  acts  and 
speaks,  and  reason,  following  behind,  can  at  last  discover  that  his 
actions  were  all  consecutive,  and  that  his  language  has  a  perfect 
grammar ;  so  faith  has  always  to  make  its  venture,  prompted  and 
inspired  from  within,  and  only  long  afterwards  can  it  expect  to 
learn  that  if  it  has  been  true  to  itself,  to  its  proper  promptings, 
then  its  action  can,  by  slow  and  plodding  reason,  be  thoroughly 
interpreted  and  justified.  Faith  is,  above  all  things,  anticipatory. 
The  sonship,  within,  anticipates  what  the  Father  has  in  store  for 
it :  by  means  of  affection,  by  rapid  instincts  of  love,  it  assumes  what 
it  cannot  yet  verify,  it  foretells  the  secrets  that  lie  hidden  within  the 


I.  Faith. 


29 


Father’s  eyes.  So  anticipating,  it  makes  its  venture,  —  a  venture 
which  love  alone  can  understand  and  justify,  though  the  faithful¬ 
ness  of  the  eternal  and  supreme  Father  ensures  that  the  anticipa¬ 
tion  shall  receive  its  full  verification. 

If  this  be  the  relation  of  faith  to  reason,  we  see  the  explanation 
of  what  seems,  at  first  sight,  to  the  philosopher  to  be  the  most  irri¬ 
tating  and  hypocritical  characteristic  of  faith.  It  is  always  shifting 
its  intellectual  defences.  It  adopts  this  or  that  fashion  of  philoso¬ 
phical  apology ;  and  then,  when  this  is  shattered  by  some  novel 
scientific  generalization,  faith,  probably  after  a  passionate  struggle 
to  retain  the  old  position,  suddenly  and  gayly  abandons  it,  and 
takes  up  with  the  new  formula  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened  : 
it  discovers  that  the  new  formula  is  admirably  adapted  for  its  pur¬ 
poses,  and  is,  in  fact,  just  what  it  always  meant,  only  it  has  unfor¬ 
tunately  omitted  to  mention  it.  So  it  goes  on,  again  and  again ; 
and  no  wonder  that  the  philosophers  growl  at  those  humbugs,  the 
clergv  ! 

o  J 

But  they  are  criticising  faith  as  if  it  were  a  theory,  as  if  knowl¬ 
edge  were  its  province,  while  in  truth  the  seat  of  faith  lies  back 
behind  the  region  of  knowledge.  Its  radical  acts  and  motives  are 
independent  of  any  particular  condition  of  thought  or  science  ; 
they  are  deeper  recessed  ;  they  exist  in  their  own  right,  and  under 
their  own  conditions.  True,  they  may  not  be  able  to  express 
themselves,  to  get  their  energies  forward,  to  set  themselves  free, 
to  manifest  themselves,  except  through  the  mediation  of  knowl¬ 
edge,  —  through  the  instruments  and  channels  which  the  science 
of  the  day  provides  them.  But  this  does  not  confuse  their  inhe¬ 
rent  and  distinct  character.  They  never  identify  themselves  with 
the  tools  they  use.  They  sit  quite  loose  to  the  particular  state  of 
thought,  the  formula,  the  terms,  through  which  they  make  their 
way  out  into  action.  And,  moreover,  since  the  acts  of  faith  are 
more  radical  than  those  of  reason,  and  since  they  belong  to  the 
entire  man  acting  in  his  integrity,  they  therefore  of  necessity  an¬ 
ticipate,  in  their  degree,  all  that  the  man  by  slow  development,  by 
the  patient  industry  of  reasoning,  will  laboriously  disclose.  Lying 
deeper  than  all  knowledge,  they  hold  in  them  the  condition  under 
which  all  knowledge  will  be  arrived  at.  They  constitute  the 
activity  which  ought  to  be  at  the  background  of  all  our  reasoning. 
No  particular  or  partial  state  of  knowledge  can  exhaust  their  sig¬ 
nificance.  Each  step  knowledge  makes  does  but  illustrate,  in 
some  new  fashion,  the  relation  of  all  knowledge  to  faith,  —  does 
but  elucidate  the  characteristics  of  that  primal  sonship.  In  each 
fresh  discovery  or  generalization,  faith  finds  a  new  instrument  for 


30 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


expressing  its  old  convictions ;  it  is  taught  to  see  the  weak  points, 
the  imperfections  of  its  former  expressions ;  it  understands  where 
they  hold  good,  and  where  they  failed  ;  it  gets  out  more  of  itself 
than  ever  before,  through  the  new  channels  opened  to  it ;  it  dis¬ 
covers  more  of  its  own  character  by  finding  better  modes  in  which 
to  manifest  it.  It  does  but  half  know  itself,  so  long  as  its  expres¬ 
sion  is  encumbered. 

The  advance  of  secular  knowledge,  then,  is  for  faith  an  acquired 
gain,  for  by  it,  it  knows  itself  better;  it  sees  more  of  what  was 
involved  in  its  vital  convictions.  It  has  a  struggle,  no  doubt,  in 
dropping  oil  the  expressions  that  have  grown  familiar  to  it,  and  in 
detecting  the  fresh  insight  into  its  own  nature  which  it  can  win  by 
the  new  terminology  :  but  when  once  it  has  mastered  the  terms, 
new  lights  break  out  upon  it,  new  suggestions  flash,  new  capacities 
disclose  themselves.  It  has  won  a  new  tool :  when  it  has  become 
familiarized  with  the  use  of  it,  it  can  do  great  and  unexpected 
things  with  it. 

But,  for  all  that,  it  is  but  a  new  tool,  worked  by  the  old  con¬ 
victions  ;  they  have  not  changed,  any  more  than  love  changes, 
though  the  slow  development  of  married  life  may  carry  the  lovers 
into  unknown  experiences,  in  foreign  lands,  under  changed  skies. 
The  two,  if  they  be  faithful,  learn  far  more  of  what  the  love  they 
plighted  means,  as  each  sweeping  revolution  carries  them  hither 
and  thither,  than  ever  they  understood  on  the  wedding-day  ;  yet  it 
is  ever  the  old  love  then  pledged,  which  they  hold  fast  to  the  end. 
Its  identity  is  emphasized  by  the  changes.  So  with  faith.  It  may 
absorb  its  energies  in  the  joy  of  wielding  the  particular  instrument 
with  which,  at  any  one  moment,  science  supplies  it.  But  it  will 
never  the  least  fear  to  drop  it,  so  soon  as  the  advancing  skill  and 
the  pushing  minds  of  men  have  elaborated  for  it  some  yet  more 
delicate  and  subtle  tool,  wherewith  to  give  free  play  to  its  native 
vitalities. 

For  faith  is  moved  by  but  one  solitary  passion,  —  the  hope  of 
cleaving,  closer  and  ever  closer,  to  the  being  of  God.  It  is,  itself, 
nothing  but  this  act  of  personal  adherence,  of  personal  cohesion  ; 
and  all  else  is,  for  it,  material  that  can  be  subdued  to  this  single 
service.  Each  bettering  of  knowledge  intensifies  the  possibilities 
of  this  cohesion ;  and,  for  that,  it  is  welcomed.  It  opens  out 
fresh  aspects  of  the  good  Father  ;  it  uncovers  new  treasures  of  His 
wisdom  :  therefore,  for  faith,  it  is  an  ever-mounting  ladder,  by 
which  it  draws  nearer  and  nearer,  spirit  to  spirit,  heart  to  heart. 
No  idle  or  indifferent  matter  this ;  and  right  knowledge,  therefore, 
is  for  faith  a  serious  and  pressing  need.  And,  moreover,  faith  is 


i.  Faith. 


3i 


pledged  to  use  all  possible  guidance  and  direction  in  making  its 
great  act  of  self-surrender  to  God.  And  it  is  the  peculiar  office 
of  reason,  and  of  the  rational  conscience,  to  guard  it  from  any 
distorted  and  unworthy  venture.  Faith  has  to  make  its  leap ;  but 
to  make  it  exactly  in  that  direction,  and  in  no  other,  where  reason 
points  the  way.  It  is  bound  therefore  to  use  all  its  intelligent 
resources  :  it  may  not  fall  below  the  level  of  its  highest  reason 
without  the  risk  of  sinking  to  a  superstition.  This  is  the  radical 
difference  between  what  we  here  claim,  and  that  which  a  super¬ 
stition  demands  of  us.  A  superstition  asks  faith  to  shut  its  eyes. 
We  ask  it  to  open  them  as  wide  as  it  can.  We  demand  this  of  it 
as  a  positive  duty.  It  is  bound,  as  an  act  of  the  whole  man,  to 
use  every  conceivable  means  and  security  which  knowledge  can 
bring  it.  For  so  alone  can  it  secure  itself  against  the  hazards 
which  encompass  its  adventure.  It  cannot  afford  to  enter  on  that 
venturous  committal  of  itself  less  equipped  and  instructed  than  it 
was  open  to  it  to  be.  It  must  put  all  to  use  that  can  better  its 
offer  of  itself  to  God. 

It  is,  in  this  seriousness,  that  faith  is  apt  to  embrace  so  fast  the 
dominant  scientific  or  philosophical  creed.  It  has  found,  through 
this  creed,  a  new  and  thrilling  insight  into  God’s  mind,  and  it  fas¬ 
tens  on  this  precious  gift,  and  dwells  delightedly  on  it,  and  spends 
itself  in  absorbing  the  peculiar  truths  which  this  particular  way  of 
thinking  brings  to  the  front.  So  that,  at  last,  when  the  smash 
comes,  when  the  floods  break  in,  when  the  accumulation  of  new 
facts  outside  the  old  lines  necessitates  a  total  reconstruction  of  the 
intellectual  fabric,  faith  seems  to  have  gone  under  with  the  ruined 
scheme  to  which  it  had  attached  itself  so  firmly. 

Yet,  if  ever  it  has  implicated  its  own  fate  with  that  of  any  partic¬ 
ular  form  of  knowledge,  it  has  been  false  to  itself.  It  has  no  more 
right  to  identify  itself  with  any  intellectual  situation  than  it  has  to 
pin  its  fortunes  to  those  of  any  political  dynasty.  Its  eternal  task 
lies  in  rapid  readjustment  to  each  fresh  situation,  which  the  motion 
of  time  may  disclose  to  it.  It  has  that  in  it  which  can  apply  to  all, 
and  learn  from  all.  Its  identity  is  not  lost,  because  its  expressions 
vary  and  shift :  for  its  identity  lies  deep  in  personality ;  and  per¬ 
sonality  is  that  which  testifies  to  its  own  identity  by  the  variety  and 
the  rapidity  of  its  self-adaptation  to  the  changes  of  circumstance. 
So  with  faith.  Its  older  interpretations  of  itself  are  not  false,  be¬ 
cause  the  newer  situations  have  called  for  different  manifestations. 
Each  situation  forces  a  new  aspect  to  the  front.  But  ever  it  is 
God  and  the  soul,  which  recognize  each  other  under  every  disguise. 
Now  it  is  in  one  fashion,  and  now  in  another ;  but  it  is  always  one 


32 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


unalterable  wisdom  which  is  justified,  recognized,  and  loved,  by 
those  who  are  her  children. 

We  will  not,  then,  be  the  least  afraid  of  the  taunt,  that  we  are 
all  accepting  and  delivering  from  our  pulpits  that  which  once 
threw  us  into  anger  and  dismay.  Only  let  us  learn  our  true  lesson  ; 
and  in  our  zeal  to  appreciate  the  wonders  of  Evolution,  let  us 
hold  ourselves  prepared  for  the  day  which  is  bound  to  come,  when 
again  the  gathering  facts  will  clamor  for  a  fresh  generalization,  and 
the  wheel  will  give  one  more  turn,  and  the  new  man  will  catch 
sight  of  the  vision  which  is  preparing,  and  the  new  book  will 
startle,  and  the  new  band  of  youthful  professors  will  denounce  and 
demolish  our  present  heroes,  and  all  the  reviews  and  magazines 
will  yelp  in  chorus  at  their  heels,  proclaiming  loudly  that  now,  at 
last  and  forever,  the  faith  which  has  pledged  itself  so  deeply  to  the 
obsolete  and  discredited  theory  of  Evolution  is  indeed  dead  and 
done  with.  Faith  will  survive  that  crisis,  as  it  has  survived  so  many 
before ;  but  it  will  be  something,  if  it  does  not  drag  behind  it  the 
evil  record  of  passion  and  blindness,  with  which  it  has  too  often 
disgraced  its  unwilling  passage  from  truth  to  truth. 

IV.  But  here  our  objections  take,  perhaps,  a  new  turn  alto¬ 
gether.  ‘  Ah,  yes  !  ’  it  will  be  said,  ‘  faith  if  it  were  a  simple  sur¬ 
render  of  the  soul  to  God,  a  childlike  adhesion  of  the  spiritual 
sonship  in  us  to  its  Father  Who  is  in  heaven,  might  sit  loose  to  all 
formulae,  theories,  discoveries,  in  the  way  described.  Faith,  if  it 
limited  itself  to  this  mystical  communion,  might  be  beyond  the 
scope  and  criticism  of  reason.  But  this  is  not  the  least  what  you 
really  ask  of  us.  The  faith,  for  which  you  practically  plead,  the 
only  form  of  faith  actually  open  to  us,  has  rashly  left  these  safe  con¬ 
fines  ;  it  has  implicated  itself  with  a  vast  body  of  facts  recorded  in 
a  book.  It  has  involved  itself  in  intricate  statements  of  dogma. 
How  can  you  claim  to  be  free  from  the  control  of  logic  and  criti¬ 
cism,  in  things  so  directly  open  to  logical  treatment?  This  spiri¬ 
tual  faith  of  yours  has  mixed  itself  up  with  alien  matter,  with 
historical  incidents,  with  intellectual  definitions ;  here  are  things 
of  evidence  and  proof.  Here  its  locks  are  shorn ;  its  mystic 
strength  is  gone.  Delilah  holds  it  fast ;  it  is  a  prisoner  in  the 
hands  of  the  Philistines.  If  you  will  retreat  again  back  into  the 
region  of  simple  spiritual  intuitions,  and  abandon  to  reason  this 
debatable  land,  how  gladly  would  we  follow  you  !  But  that  is  just 
what  you  refuse  to  do.’ 

Now,  here  is  the  serious  moment  for  us  of  to-day.  It  is  quite 
true  that  all  would  be  plain  and  easy,  if  we  might  be  allowed  to 
make  this  retreat,  if  we  might  limit  our  claims  for  the  spirit  to 


I.  Faith. 


33 


that  simple,  childlike  intuition  which,  instinctively,  feels  after  and 
surrenders  to  the  good  Father  in  heaven.  But  what  would  that 
retreat  mean  ?  It  would  mean  an  attempt,  desperate  and  blind, 
to  turn  back  the  world’s  story,  to  ignore  the  facts,  to  overleap  the 
distinctions  of  time  and  place,  to  deny  experience,  to  force  our¬ 
selves  back  into  primitive  days,  to  imagine  ourselves  children  again. 
Simple  intuitions  of  God,  simple  communion  with  the  Father, 
unquestioned,  undistracted.  —  this  is  the  privilege  of  primitive  days, 
when  minds  are  simple,  when  experience  is  simple,  when  society 
is  simple.  Plain,  easy,  and  direct  situations  admit  of  plain,  easy, 
and  direct  handling.  But  our  situation  is  not  plain,  easy,  or  direct. 
Our  minds  are  intricate  and  complicated ;  our  story  has  been  a 
long  and  a  difficult  one ;  our  social  condition  is  the  perplexed 
deposit  of  age-long  experiences.  The  faith  which  is  to  be  ours 
to-day  must  be  a  faith  of  to-day.  It  cannot  remain  at  the  level  of 
childhood,  when  nothing  else  in  us  or  about  us  is  the  least  child¬ 
like.  It  cannot  babble  out  in  pretty  baby-language  when  the  situa¬ 
tion  with  which  it  has  to  deal  is  terribly  earnest,  serious,  perilous, 
and  intense.  It  must  be  level  with  its  work ;  and  its  work  is  com¬ 
plicated,  hard,  disciplined :  how  can  it  expect  to  accomplish  it 
without  effort,  without  pain,  without  training,  without  intricacy? 
The  world  is  old  ;  human  life  is  old  ;  and  faith  is  old  also.  It  has 
had  many  a  strange  and  stormy  experience  ;  it  has  learned  much 
on  the  way  ;  it  has  about  it  the  marks  of  old  troubles  ;  the  care,  the 
patience,  the  completeness  of  age,  have  left  their  stamp  upon  it. 
It  has  had  a  history  like  everything  else  ;  and  it  reaches  us  to-day,  in 
a  form  which  that  history  behind  it  can  alone  make  intelligible.  Four 
thousand  years  have  gone  to  its  making  since  Abraham  first  laid 
hold,  in  a  definite  and  consistent  manner,  of  the  faith  which  is  ours 
to-day.  All  those  centuries  it  has  been  putting  itself  together, 
growing,  enriching  itself,  developing,  as  it  faced  and  measured  each 
new  issue,  each  gathering  complication,  each  pressing  hazard. 
This  long  experience  has  built  up  faith’s  history  :  and,  by  study  of 
that  history,  we  can  know  why  it  was  that  faith  could  not  stand 
still  at  that  point  where  we  should  find  it  so  convenient  to  rest. 
Faith  appeals  to  its  own  story  to  justify  its  career ;  it  bears  about 
that  history  with  it  as  its  explanation,  why,  and  how  it  has  arrived  at 
its  present  condition.  That  history  is  its  proof  how  far  it  has  left 
its  first  childhood  behind  it,  how  impossible  it  is  at  the  end  of  the 
days  to  return  to  the  beginning.  The  history,  which  constitutes 
our  difficulty,  is  its  own  answer.  For  there,  in  that  Bible,  lies  the 
recorded  story  of  the  facts  which  pressed  hard  upon  the  earliest 
intuition  of  God,  and  drove  it  forward,  and  compelled  it  to  fix  itself, 

3 


34  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

and  to  define  itself,  and  to  take  a  firmer  root,  and  to  make  for 
itself  a  secure  dwelling-place,  and  to  shape  for  itself  a  career. 
The  Bible  is  the  apology  which  our  faith  carries  with  it  and  offers 
as  a  proof  of  the  necessity  which  has  forced  it  to  go  beyond  its 
primitive  efforts,  until  it  has  reached  the  stage  at  which  we  now 
encounter  it.  It  portrays  there,  before  our  eyes,  how  it  all  began  ; 
how  there  came  to  this  man  and  to  that  the  simple  augury,  the 
presage,  the  spasm  of  spiritual  insight,  the  flash,  the  glimpse, 
the  intimation ;  until  there  came  the  man  Abraham,  in  whom  it  won 
the  emphasis,  the  solidity,  the  power  of  a  call.  ‘  Oh,  that  we  might 
be  content  to  feel,  as  he,  the  presence  of  the  Everlasting  !  Why 
not  leave  us  in  peace,’  we  cry,  ‘  with  the  simple  faith  of  Abraham  ?  ’ 
And  the  answer  is  plain  :  ‘  Because  it  is  the  nineteenth  century  after 
Christ,  instead  of  the  nineteenth  century  before.’  We  are  making 
a  mistake  of  dates.  Let  us  turn  to  our  Bible  and  read.  There 
we  watch  the  reasons  disclosing  themselves  why  that  simple  faith 
could  not  abide  in  arrest  at  its  first  moment ;  why  it  must  open 
a  new  career,  with  new  duties,  and  new  responsibilities,  and  new 
problems.  The  seed  is  sown,  but  it  has  to  grow  j  to  make  good 
its  footing  amid  the  thick  of  human  affairs ;  to  root  itself  in  the 
soil  of  human  history ;  to  spread  itself  out  in  institutions ;  to 
push  its  dominion  ;  to  widen  its  range ;  to  become  a  tree  that 
will  fill  the  land.  Before  Abraham,  it  was  but  a  flying  seed,  blown 
by  the  winds;  now  it  is  a  stable,  continuous,  masterful  growth. 
It  must  be  this,  if  it  is  ever  to  make  effective  its  spiritual  asser¬ 
tions  over  the  increasing  intricacy  of  human  affairs. 

What,  let  us  ask,  is  that  life  of  faith  which  historically  began 
with  Abraham  ?  It  is  a  friendship,  an  intimacy,  between  man  and 
God,  between  a  son  and  a  father.  Such  an  intimacy  cannot  be 
idle  or  stagnant ;  it  cannot  arrest  its  instinctive  development.  It 
holds  in  it  infinite  possibilities  of  growth,  of  increasing  familiarity, 
of  multiplied  communion.  And,  thus,  such  a  friendship  creates 
a  story  of  its  own :  it  has  its  jars,  its  frictions,  its  entangle¬ 
ments,  —  alas  !  on  one  side,  its  lapses,  its  quarrels,  its  blunders, 
its  misunderstandings ;  and  then,  on  the  other,  its  corresponding 
indignations,  and  withdrawals,  and  rebukes ;  and  yet  again,  its 
reconciliations,  its  reactions,  its  pardons,  its  victories.  Ever 
it  moves  forward  on  its  checkered  path ;  ever  God,  the  good 
Friend,  spends  Himself  in  recovering  the  intimacy,  in  renewing  it, 
in  purging  it,  in  raising  it.  Its  conditions  expand  ;  its  demands 
intensify  ;  its  perils  deepen  ;  its  glories  gather ;  until  it  consum¬ 
mates  its  effort  in  the  perfected  communion  of  God  and  man,  — 
in  Him  Who  completes  and  closes  the  story  of  this  ever-growing 


r.  Faith. 


35 


t. 


intimacy,  by  that  act  of  supreme  condescension  which  brings 
down  God  to  inhabit  and  possess  the  heart  of  man  ;  and  by  that 
act  of  supreme  exaltation  which  uplifts  man  into  absolute  union 
i  with  the  God  Who  made  him. 

This  is  the  story  :  the  Bible  is  its  record.  As  a  body  of  inci- 
1  dents  and  facts  it  must  be  subject  to  all  the  conditions  of  history 
|  and  the  laws  of  evidence ;  as  a  written  record  it  introduces  a 
swarm  of  questions,  which  can  be  sifted  and  decided  by  rational 
criticism.  This  entails  complications,  it  must  be  confessed ;  but 
they  are  inevitable.  The  intimacy  between  man  and  God  cannot 
advance,  except  through  the  pressure  of  connected  and  recorded 
;  experience.  A  human  society  which  has  no  record  of  its  past  is 
robbed  of  its  future.  It  is  savage  ;  it  cannot  go  forward,  because 
it  cannot  look  back.  So  with  this  divine  friendship.  Its  recorded 
I  experiences  are  the  one  condition  of  its  growth.  Without  them 
it  must  always  be  beginning  afresh ;  it  must  remain  imprisoned  at 
|  the  starting-post.  The  length  and  complexity  of  its  record  is  the 
measure  of  its  progress  ;  even  though  they  must  present,  at  the 
}•  same  time,  a  larger  surface  to  the  handling  of  criticism,  and  may 
L  involve  a  deeper  degree  of  obscurity  in  details. 

And,  after  all,  though  details  drawn  out  of  a  dead  past  permit 
obscurity,  the  nature  and  character  of  the  main  issue  become  ever 
more  fixed  and  distinct,  as  the  long  roll  of  circumstances  discloses 
its  richer  secrets.  The  very  shift  and  confusion  of  the  surface- 
1  material  throws  out,  in  emphatic  contrast,  the  firm  outlines  of  the 
gathering  and  growing  mystery.  Ever  the  advance  proceeds, 
throwing  off  all  that  is  accidental,  immaterial,  subservient ;  ever 
man  becomes  clearer  in  his  recognition  of  the  claims  made  on  him 
by  the  hope  which  God  keeps  ever  before  Him,  ‘  They  shall  be  My 
people  :  I  will  be  their  God.’  Ever  the  necessities  of  such  an 
f-  intimate  affection  point  to  the  coming  of  the  Christ.  Christ  is  the 
end,  the  sum,  the  completion,  of  this  historic  friendship  ;  and  His 
advent  is,  therefore,  absolutely  unintelligible  unless  it  is  held  in 
relation  to  the  long  experience,  which  He  interprets,  justifies,  and 
fulfils.  Faith  in  Christ  is  the  last  result,  the  ultimate  and  perfected 
condition  of  that  faith  of  Abraham,  which  enabled  him  to  become 
the  first  friend  of  God.  And  the  immense  experience  that  lay 
between  Abraham  and  St.  Paul,  can  alone  bridge  the  interval,  can 
alone  exhibit  the  slow  and  laborious  evolution,  through  which  the 
primitive  apprehension  of  God  was  transformed  into  the  Christian 
Creed,  —  that  mighty  transformation,  spread  out  over  two  thousand 
!  years  of  varied  history,  which  our  Lord  summed  up  in  the  light¬ 
ning-flash,  ‘  Your  father  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see  My  day  :  and  he 


36  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

saw  it,  and  was  glad.’  The  Book  is  the  record  of  those  tested 
and  certified  experiments,  which  justified  our  Lord  in  asserting 
that  to  believe  in  God  was,  necessarily,  to  believe  in  Him.  No 
one  can  understand  that  assertion,  unless  by  seeing  it  worked  out, 
in  detail,  by  the  searching  logic  of  experience. 

Faith  in  Christ,  then,  includes  faith  in  the  Bible ;  and  in  saying 
that,  we  have  already  cleared  away  much  of  the  difficulty  that 
beset  us.  For  our  faith  in  Christ  becomes  the  measure  and  stand- . 
ard  of  our  faith  in  the  Bible.  We  believe  in  it  as  the  record  of 
our  growing  intimacy  with  God.  Faith  is,  still,  a  spiritual  cohesion 
of  person  with  person,  —  of  the  living  soul  with  a  living  God.  No 
details  that  intervene  confuse  this  primitive  relation.  Only,  that 
cohesion  was  not  reached  at  one  leap.  It  is  ancient :  it  has 
traversed  many  incidents  and  trials :  it  has  learned  much :  it 
has  undergone  patient  apprenticeship  :  it  has  been  bonded  by  the 
memory  of  multitudinous  vicissitudes.  Like  all  else  that  is  human, 
it  has  grown.  The  details  of  events  are  the  media  of  that  growth. 
In  that  character  they  are  vitally  essential  to  the  formed  inti¬ 
macy  ;  but  in  that  character  alone.  They  are  not  valued  for 
their  own  sake,  but  for  the  cause  which  they  served.  Belief  in 
God  never  changes  its  character,  and  becomes  belief  in  facts ;  it 
only  develops  into  a  deeper  and  deeper  belief  in  God,  as  dis¬ 
ciplined  by  facts.  The  facts  must  be  real,  if  the  discipline  is  to 
be  real ;  but  apart  from  this  necessity,  we  are  indifferent  to  them. 
We  can  listen  to  anything  which  historical  criticism  has  to  tell  us, 
of  dates  and  authorship,  of  time  and  place.  It  may  supply  all  the 
gaps  in  our  record,  showing  how  the  material  there,  briefly  gathered, 
had  itself  a  story,  and  slowly  came  together,  and  had  sources  and 
associations  elsewhere.  All  such  research  adds  interest  to  the 
record,  as  it  opens  out  to  us  the  action  of  the  Divine  Intimacy,  in 
laying  hold  of  its  material.  We  watch  it,  by  the  aid  of  such  criti¬ 
cism,  at  its  work  of  assimilation  ;  and  in  uncovering  its  principles 
of  selection,  we  apprehend  its  inner  mind  ;  we  draw  closer  to  our 
God.  The  more  nearly  we  can  ally  the  early  conditions  of  Israel 
to  those  of  Arabian  nomads,  the  more  delicate  and  rare  becomes 
our  apprehension  of  that  divine  relationship  which,  by  its  perpetual 
pressure,  lifted  Israel  to  its  marvellous  supremacy,  and  which,  by 
its  absence,  left  the  Arabian  to  be  what  he  is  to-day. 

The  point  at  which  criticism  must  hold  off  its  hands  is,  of 
course,  a  most  subtle  matter  to  decide.  But  we  can,  at  least,  be 
sure  of  this  :  that  such  a  point  will  be  no  arbitrary  one  ;  it  will 
be  there,  where  criticism  attempts  to  trench  on  the  reality  and 
the  uniqueness  of  the  Divine  Intimacy,  which  those  incidents 


i.  Faith . 


37 


served  to  fashion,  and  those  books  detected  and  recorded,  and 
Christ  consummated.  Our  faith  in  Christ  must  determine  what,  in 
the  Bible,  is  vital  to  its  own  veracity.  There  is  no  other  measure 
or  rule  of  what  we  mean  by  inspiration. 

The  preparation  for  Christ,  then,  necessitates  such  complications 
as  these.  And  the  character  of  His  advent  intensified  and  thick¬ 
ened  them.  For,  while  asking  of  us  the  purest  form  of  spiritual 
adherence,  He  makes  that  demand  in  a  shape  which  is  imbedded 
throughout  in  concrete  historical  facts  which,  as  facts,  must  be 
subject  to  the  thumb  of  critical  discussion,  and  to  all  the  external 
handling  of  evidence  and  argument. 

And,  then,  on  the  top  ot  this,  He  has,  of  necessity,  raised  the 
question  of  His  own  Personality  to  such  a  pitch  of  vital  value  that 
the  full  force  of  man’s  intellectual  activities  is  drawn  towards  its 
consideration, — -is  summoned  to  contemplate,  and  measure,  and 
apprehend  it ;  is  compelled  to  examine  and  face  its  tremendous 
issues.  The  supreme  act  of  personal  surrender,  for  which  Christ 
unhesitatingly  asks,  cannot  conceivably  pass  beyond  its  child- 
stage  without  forming  a  direct  and  urgent  challenge  to  the  intellect 
to  say  how  and  why  such  an  act  can  be  justified,  or  such  a  claim 
interpreted.  No  faith  can  reach  to  such  an  absolute  condition 
without  finding  itself  involved  in  anxieties,  perils,  problems,  com¬ 
plications.  Its  very  absoluteness  is  a  provocation  to  the  ques¬ 
tioning  and  disputing  mind, —  to  the  hesitating  and  scrupulous  will. 
And  the  result,  the  inevitable  result,  of  such  a  faith  —  proposed, 
as  it  was,  to  a  world  no  longer  young  and  childlike,  but  matured, 
old,  thoughtful,  experienced  —  is  the  Dogmatic  Creeds.  We 
clamor  against  these  intellectual  complications ;  we  cry  out  for 
the  simple  primitive  faith.  But,  once  again,  it  is  a  mistake  of 
dates.  We  cannot  ask  to  be  as  if  eighteen  centuries  had  dropped 
out,  unnoticed,  —  as  if  the  mind  had  slumbered  since  the  days  of 
Christ,  and  had  never  asked  a  question.  We  cannot  hope  to  be 
in  the  same  condition  after  a  question  has  been  asked  as  we  were 
before  it  had  ever  occurred  to  us  to  ask  it.  The  Creeds  only  re¬ 
cord  that  certain  questions  have,  as  a  fact,  been  asked.  Could  our 
world  be  what  it  is,  and  not  have  asked  them?  These  difficulties 
of  a  complicated  faith  are  only  the  reflection  of  the  difficulties  of 
a  complicated  life.  If,  as  a  fact,  we  are  engaged  in  living  a  life 
which  is  intricate,  subtle,  anxious,  then  any  faith  which  hopes 
to  cover  and  embrace  that  life,  cannot  escape  the  necessity  of 
being  intricate,  subtle,  and  anxious  also.  No  child’s  creed  can 
satisfy  a  man’s  needs,  hunger,  hopes,  anxieties.  If  we  are  asked 
to  throw  over  the  complications  of  our  Creeds,  we  must  beg  those 


33 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


that  ask  us  to  begin  by  throwing  over  the  complications  of  this 
social  and  moral  life. 

But  still,  with  the  Creeds  as  with  the  Bible,  it  is  the  personal 
intimacy  with  God  in  Christ  which  alone  is  our  concern.  We  do 
not,  in  the  strict  sense,  believe  in  the  Bible,  or  in  the  Creeds :  we 
believe  solely  and  absolutely  in  Christ  Jesus.  Faith  is  our  living 
act  of  adherence  in  Him,  of  cohesion  with  God.  But  still,  once 
more,  we  must  recognize  that  this  act  of  adhesion  has  a  history ; 
it  has  gradually  been  trained  and  perfected  :  and  this  has  been 
accomplished  through  the  long  and  perilous  experiences  recorded 
in  the  Old  Testament;  and  it  has  been  consummated  in  the  final 
sealing  of  the  perfected  intimacy  attained  in  Him,  in  Whose  per¬ 
son  it  was  realized  and  made  possible  for  us  :  and  it  has  been 
guarded  and  secured  to  us  in  the  face  of  the  overwhelming  pres¬ 
sure  of  eighteen  strong,  stormy,  and  distracted  centuries.  And 
therefore  it  is  that  we  now  must  attain  our  cohesion  with  God, 
subject  to  all  the  necessities  laid  upon  us  by  the  fact  that  we  enter 
on  the  world’s  stage  at  a  late  hour,  when  the  drama  has  already 
developed  its  plot  and  complicated  its  situations.  This  is  why  we 
cannot  now,  in  full  view  of  the  facts,  believe  in  Christ,  without 
finding  that  our  belief  includes  the  Bible  and  the  Creeds. 

V.  Faith  is,  still  and  always,  a  spiritual  intimacy,  a  living  friend¬ 
ship  with  God.  That  is  what  we  must  be  forever  asserting.  That 
is  the  key  to  all  our  problems  ;  and  once  sure  of  this  in  all  its 
bearings,  we  shall  not  be  afraid  of  a  taunt  which  is  apt  to  sting 
especially  those  of  us  who  are  ordained.  It  is  conveyed,  in  its 
noblest  form,  in  a  book  of  Mr.  John  Morley’s,  on  Compromise. 
No  one  can  read  that  book  without  being  the  better  or  the  worse 
for  it.  The  intense  force  of  high  moral  convictions  acts  upon  us 
like  a  judgment.  It  evokes  the  deepest  conscience  in  us  to  come 
forward,  and  stand  at  that  austere  bar  and  justify  itself,  or,  in  fail¬ 
ing  to  justify  itself,  sink  condemned.  And  in  that  book  he  asks 
the  old  question,  with  unequalled  power :  How  can  it  possibly  be 
honest  for  men  to  sign  away  their  reason  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
three  ;  to  commit  themselves  to  conclusions  which  they  cannot 
have  mastered  ;  to  anticipate  beforehand  all  that  experience  may 
have  to  teach?  In  committing  themselves  to  positions  which 
any  newT  knowledge  or  discovery  may  reverse,  they  have  forbid¬ 
den  themselves  the  free  use  of  their  critical  faculties ;  they  have 
resigned  their  intellectual  conscience. 

What  do  we  answer  to  that  severe  arraignment?  Surely  we 
now  know  well.  Faith  is  an  affair  of  personal  intimacy,  of  friend¬ 
ship,  of  will,  of  love  ;  and,  in  all  such  cases,  we  should  know 


I.  Faith. 


39 


exactly  what  to  do  with  language  of  this  type.  We  should  laugh 
it  out  of  court.  For  it  is  language  which  does  not  belong  to  this 
region.  It  is  the  language,  it  expresses  the  temper,  of  the  scien¬ 
tific  student, — a  temper,  an  attitude  specialized  for  a  distinct 
purpose.  That  purpose  is  one  of  gradual  advance  into  regions  as 
yet  untouched'  and  unsuspected,  —  an  advance  which  is  forever 
changing  the  relations  and  classifications  of  those  already  partially 
known.  The  temper  essential  to  such  a  purpose  must  be  prepared 
for  discovery,  for  development,  for  the  unexpected  ;  it  is  bound 
to  be  tentative,  experimental,  hypothetical ;  to  be  cool,  critical, 
corrective.  It  deals  with  impersonal  matter ;  and  it  must  itself, 
therefore,  be  as  far  as  possible  impersonal,  abstract,  non-moral, 
without  passion,  without  individuality,  without  a  private  intention, 
or  will,  or  fixed  opinion. 

But  such  a  temper,  perfectly  justified  for  scientific  purposes,  is 
absolutely  impotent  and  barren  in  matters  of  moral  feeling  and 
practice. 

The  man  who  brings  this  temper  into  play  in  affairs  of  the  will, 
or  the  heart,  or  the  imagination ;  in  cases~of affection,  friendship, 
passion,  inspiration,  generosity ;  in  the  things  of  home,  of  war,  of 
patriotism,  of  love, —  is  in  the  wrong  world  ;  he  is  a  living  blunder ; 
he  has  no  cue,  no  key,  no  interpretation.  He  is  simply  absurd. 

And  religion  stands  with  these  affairs.  Just  as  we  see  well 
enough  that  if  love  were  approached  in  this  scientific  spirit,  it 
could  not  even  begin,  so  it  is  quite  as  certain  that,  if  faith  were 
approached  in  this  spirit,  it  could  not  even  begin. 

Mr.  Morley  has  mixed  up  two  different  worlds.  He  is  criticis¬ 
ing  that  form  of  knowledge  which  consists  in  spiritual  apprehension 
of  another’s  personality  through  the  whole  force  of  a  man’s  inhe¬ 
rent.  and  integral,  and  personal  will  and  desire,  by  the  standard  of 
another  form  of  knowledge  altogether,  which  consists  in  gradual 
and  experimental  assimilation  of  foreign  and  unknown  matter 
through  specialized  organs  of  critical  observation. 

This  latter  knowledge  is  bound  to  be  as  far  as  possible  emptied 
of  personal  elements.  But  our  knowledge  is  nothing  if  not  per¬ 
sonal  ;  it  is  the  knowledge  which  issues,  and  issues  only,  out  of  the 
personal  contact  of  life  with  life.  And  this  is  why  it  can  afford  to 
anticipate  the  future.  For  a  person  is  a  consistent  and  integral 
whole  ;  if  you  know  it  at  any  one  point,  you  know  it  in  a  sense  at 
all  points.  The  one  character,  the  one  will,  disclose  themselves 
through  every  partial  expression,  and  passing  gesture,  and  varying 
act.  Therefore  it  is  that,  when  two  personalities  draw  towards  one 
another  in  the  touch  of  love,  they  can  afford  to  plight  their  word. 


40 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


For  love  is  the  instinctive  prophecy  of  a  future  adherence.  It  is 
the  assurance,  passing  from  soul  to  soul,  that  no  new  discovery 
of  what  is  involved  in  their  after-life  together  can  ever  deny,  or 
defeat,  or  destroy  their  present  mutual  coherence  in  each  other. 
That  adhesion,  that  adaptability,  which  has  been  proved  at  a 
few  points,  will  necessarily  be  justified  throughout.  The  marriage- 
pledge  expresses  the  absolute  conviction  that  the  present  expe¬ 
rience  is  irreversible,  except  by  wilful  sin.  Whatever  novelties 
the  years  bring  with  them,  those  two  characters  will  abide  what 
they  are  to-day.  Growth  cannot  radically  alter  them. 

Love,  then,  is  this  confident  anticipation,  which  takes  the  future 
in  pledge.  And  where  this  anticipation  breaks  down,  it  must  be 
through  human  infirmity,  wrong,  misunderstanding. 

And  our  knowledge  of  Christ  is  this  knowledge  of  love ;  wher¬ 
ever  it  exists,  and  so  far  as  it  exists,  it  issues  out  of  personal  con¬ 
tact,  personal  interaction.  This  is  why,  in  its  tested  and  certified 
form,  —  i.  e .,  in  the  accumulated  and  historic  experience  of  the 
Catholic  community, —  it  can  rationally  justify  its  anticipation  of 
an  unbroken  adherence. 

And  it  can  do  so  with  complete  confidence,  because,  here,  on 
the  side  of  Christ,  there  is  no  infirmity  which  can  endanger  the 
plighted  faith  ;  there  is  no  lapse,  no  decline  possible.  Christ  must 
be  loyal,  for  He  is  sinless.  And  more  :  being  sinless,  He  is  con¬ 
sistent.  Every  part  of  Him  is  in  harmony  with  the  whole  :  in  Him 
there  is  no  unsteadiness,  no  insecurity.  Such  a  flawless  character 
is  identical  with  itself ;  wherever  it  is  touched,  it  can  be  tested  and 
approved. 

What,  then,  can  upset  our  trust  in  Him?  What  can  disturb  our 
knowledge  of  Him?  What  fear  of  change  can  the  years  bring  on? 
We  may  know  but  a  tiny  fragment,  a  fringe,  of  this  love  of  His  to 
us,  yet  that  is  enough  ;  to  have  felt  it  at  all  is  to  trust  it  forever. 
We  cannot  hesitate  to  commit  ourselves  to  One  Who,  if  we  know 
Him  in  any  way,  is  known  to  be,  by  inward,  personal,  inherent 
necessity,  the  ‘  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever.’ 

Yes  !  But  still  it  may  be  pleaded  that  this  anticipatory  adhe¬ 
rence,  which  might  justifiably  be  given  to  a  person  beloved,  can¬ 
not  be  pledged  to  dogmatic  definitions.  These,  at  any  rate,  are 
matters,  not  of  love,  but  of  reason  :  they  must  be  liable  to  critical 
examination,  to  intellectual  revision.  It  is  the  pledge  given  to 
believe  these  dogmas  in  the  future,  which  is  such  an  outrage  on 
intellectual  morality. 

Now,  this  protest,  forcible  and  obvious  as  it  looks  at  first  sight, 
is  still  guilty  of  confusing  the  criticism  which  belongs  to  one 


i.  Faith. 


4i 


province  of  knowledge  with  that  which  belongs  to  another.  These 
dogmas  of  faith  do  not  the  least  correspond  to  the  classifications  and 
laws  of  physical  science  ;  and  for  this  reason,  that  the  matter  to  which 
they  relate  is  wholly  different  in  kind.  Dogmas  represent  reason  in 
its  application  to  a  personal  life  :  scientific  generalizations  represent 
reason  as  applied  to  matter,  from  which  the  conditions  of  person¬ 
ality  have  been  rigorously  and  rightly  excluded.  The  difference  is 
vital  ;  and  it  affects  the  entire  character  of  the  working  of  reason. 

The  dogmatic  definitions  of  Christian  theology  can  never  be 
divorced  from  their  contact  in  the  personality  of  Christ.  They  are 
statements  concerning  a  living  character.  As  such,  and  only  as 
such,  do  they  come  within  the  lines  of  faith.  We  do  not,  in  the 
strict  sense,  believe  in  them  :  for  belief  is  never  a  purely  intellec¬ 
tual  act ;  it  is  a  movement  of  the  living  man  drawn  towards  a  liv¬ 
ing  person.  Belief  can  only  be  in  Jesus  Christ.  To  Him  alone  do 
we  ever  commit  ourselves,  surrender  ourselves,  for  ever  and  aye. 
But  a  personality,  though  its  roots  lie  deeper  than  reason,  yet 
includes  reason  within  its  compass  :  a  personality  cannot  but  be 
rational,  though  it  be  more  than  merely  rational ;  it  has  in  it  a  ratio¬ 
nal  ground,  a  rational  construction  ;  it  could  not  be  what  it  is  with¬ 
out  being  of  such  and  such  a  fixed  and  organic  character.  And  a 
personality,  therefore,  is  intelligible  ;  it  lays  itself  open  to  rational 
treatment ;  its  characteristics  can  be  stated  in  terms  of  thought. 
The  Will  of  God  is  the  Word  of  God  ;  the  Life  is  also  the  Light. 
That  which  is  loved  can  be  apprehended  ;  that  which  is  felt  can  be 
named.  So  the  Personality  of  the  Word  admits  of  being  rationally 
expressed  in  the  sense  that  reason  can  name  and  distinguish  those 
elements  in  it  which  constitute  its  enduring  and  essential  condi¬ 
tions.  The  dogmas,  now  in  question,  are  simply  careful  rehearsals 
of  those  inherent  necessities  which,  inevitably,  are  involved  in  the 
rational  construction  of  Christ’s  living  character.  They  are  state¬ 
ments  of  what  He  must  be,  if  He  is  what  our  hearts  assure  us  ;  if 
He  can  do  that  for  which  our  wills  tender  Him  their  life-long  self¬ 
surrender.  LTnless  these  rational  conditions  stand,  then,  no  act  of 
faith  is  justifiable ;  unless  His  personality  correspond  to  these 
assertions,  we  can  never  be  authorized  in  worshipping  Him. 

But,  if  so,  then  we  can  commit  ourselves  to  these  dogmas  in  the 
same  way  and  degree  as  we  commit  ourselves  to  Him.  We  can 
do  so,  in  the  absolute  assurance  that  He  cannot  but  abide  forever, 
that  which  we  know  Him  to  be  to-day.  We  know  Him,  indeed, 
but  ‘  in  part ;  ’  but  it  is  part  of  a  fixed  and  integral  character,  which 
is  whole  in  every  part,  and  can  never  falsify,  in  the  future,  the 
revelation  which  it  has  already  made  of  itself. 


42 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


The  real  question,  as  to  Christian  dogma,  lies  in  the  prior  ques¬ 
tion  :  Is  Christianity  justified  in  claiming  to  have  reached  a  final 
position?  If  the  position  is  rightly  final,  then  the  intellectual 
expression  of  its  inherent  elements  is  final  also.  Here  is  the  deep 
contrast  between  it  and  science.  The  scientific  man  is  forbidden, 
by  the  very  nature  of  his  studies,  to  assume  finality  for  his  proposi¬ 
tions.  For  he  is  not  yet  in  command  of  his  material,  bar,  very 
far,  from  it.  He  is  touching  it  on  its  very  edge.  He  is  engaged 
in  slowly  pushing  tentative  advances  into  an  unknown  world,  loom¬ 
ing,  vast,  dim,  manifold,  beyond  his  frontier  of  light.  The  cohe¬ 
rence  of  his  known  matter  with  that  huge  mass  beyond  his  ken,  can 
be  but  faintly  imaged  and  suspected.  Wholly  unreckoned  forces 
are  in  operation.  At  any  moment  he  may  be  called  upon  to  throw 
over  the  classification  which  sums  up  his  hitherto  experience ;  he 
may  have  to  adopt  a  new  centre ;  to  bring  his  facts  into  a  novel 
focus  :  and  this  involves  at  once  a  novel  principle  of  arrangement. 
In  such  conditions  dogma  is,  of  course,  an  absurdity.  But  if  we 
are  in  a  position  to  have  any  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  then  we  must 
suppose  that  we  have  arrived  at  the  one  centre  to  all  possible 
experiences,  the  one  focus  under  which  all  sights  must  fall.  To 
believe  in  Him  at  all  is  to  believe  that,  by  and  in  ‘  this  Man,  will 
God  judge  the  world.’  In  His  personality,  in  His  character,  we 
are  in  possession  of  the  ultimate  principle,  under  which  the  final 
estimate  of  all  things  will  be  taken.  We  have  given  us,  in  His  sac¬ 
rifice  and  mission,  the  absolute  rule,  standard,  test,  right  to  the 
very  end.  Nothing  can  fall  outside  it.  In  Him,  God  has  summed 
up  creation.  We  have  touched  in  Him  the  ‘  last  days,’  the  ulti¬ 
mate  stage  of  all  development.  We  cannot  believe  in  Him  at  all, 
and  not  believe  that  His  message  is  final. 

And  it  is  this  finality  which  justifies  dogma.  If  Christianity  is 
final,  it  can  afford  to  be  dogmatic  ;  and  we,  who  give  our  adhesion 
to  it,  must,  in  so  doing,  profess  our  adhesion  to  the  irreversible 
nature  of  its  inherent  principles ;  for,  in  so  doing,  we  are  but 
reasserting  our  belief  in  the  absolute  and  final  sufficiency  of 
His  person. 

Let  us  venture,  now,  to  review  the  path  that  we  have  travelled, 
in  order  that  we  may  see  at  what  point  we  have  arrived.  Faith, 
then,  is,  from  first  to  last,  a  spiritual  act  of  the  deepest  personal 
will,  proceeding  out  of  that  central  core  of  the  being,  where  the 
self  is  integral  and  whole,  before  it  has  sundered  itself  off  into 
divided  faculties.  There,  in  that  root-self,  lie  the  germs  of  all  that 
appears  in  the  separate  qualities  and  gifts,  —  in  feelings,  in  reason, 
in  imagination,  in  desire ;  and  faith,  the  central  activity,  has  in  it, 


i.  Faith . 


43 


therefore,  the  germs  of  all  these  several  activities.  It  has  in  it  that 
which  becomes  feeling,  yet  is  not  itself  a  feeling.  It  has  in  it  that 
which  becomes  reason,  yet  is  not  itself  the  reason.  It  holds  in  it 
imaginative  elements,  yet  is  no  exercise  of  the  imagination.  It  is 
alive  with  that  which  desires,  craves,  loves,  yet  is  not  itself  merely 
an  appetite,  a  desire,  a  passion.  In  all  these  qualities  it  has  its 
part ;  it  shares  their  nature ;  it  has  kindred  motions  ;  it  shows 
itself,  sometimes  through  the  one,  and  sometimes  through  the 
other,  according  to  the  varieties  of  human  characters.  In  this 
man,  it  can  make  the  feeling  its  main  instrument  and  channel ;  in 
that  man,  it  will  find  the  intellect  its  chief  minister ;  in  another,  it 
will  make  its  presence  known  along  the  track  of  his  innermost 
craving  for  a  support  in  will  and  in  love.  But  it  will  always  remain 
something  over,  and  beyond,  any  one  of  its  distinctive  media;  and 
not  one  of  these  specialities  of  gift  will  ever,  therefore,  be  able  to 
account  wholly  for  the  faith  which  puts  it  to  use.  That  is  why 
faith  must  always  remain  beyond  its  realized  evidences.  If  it  finds, 
in  some  cases,  its  chief  evidences  in  the  region  of  feeling,  it  is 
nevertheless  open  to  deadly  ruin,  if  ever  it  identifies  itself  with 
these  evidences,  as  if  it  could  rely  on  them  to  carry  it  through. 
It  may  come  into  being  by  their  help ;  but  it  is  never  genuine 
faith,  until  it  can  abide  in  self-security  at  those  dry  hours  when 
the  evidences  of  positive  feeling  have  been  totally  withdrawn. 
And  as  with  feeling,  so  with  reason.  Faith  looks  to  reason  for 
its  proofs  ;  it  must  count  on  finding  them  ;  it  offers  for  itself  intel¬ 
lectual  justifications.  It  may  arrive  at  a  man  by  this  road.  But  it 
is  not  itself  reason ;  it  can  never  confuse  itself  with  a  merely  intel¬ 
lectual  process.  It  cannot,  therefore,  find,  in  reason,  the  full 
grounds  for  its  ultimate  convictions.  Ever  it  retains  its  own  in¬ 
herent  character,  by  which  it  is  constituted  an  act  of  personal 
trust,  an  act  of  willing  and  loving  self-surrender  to  the  dominant 
sway  of  another’s  personality.  It  is  always  this,  whether  it  springs 
up  instinctively,  out  of  the  roots  of  our  being,  anticipating  all 
after-proof,  or  whether  it  is  summoned  out  into  vitality  at  the  close 
of  a  long  and  late  argumentative  process.  No  argument,  no  array 
of  arguments,  however  long,  however  massive,  can  succeed  in 
excusing  it  from  that  momentous  effort  of  the  inner  man,  which  is 
its  very  essence.  Let  reason  do  its  perfect  work ;  let  it  heap  up 
witness  upon  witness,  proof  upon  proof.  Still  there  will  come  at 
last  the  moment  when  the  call  to  believe  will  be  just  the  same  to 
the  complete  and  reasonable  man  as  it  always  is  to  the  simplest 
child,  —  the  call  to  trust  Another  with  a  confidence  which  reason 
can  justify,  but  can  never  create.  This  act,  which  is  faith,  must 


44  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

have  in  it  that  spirit  of  venture,  which  closes  with  Another’s  invita¬ 
tion,  which  yields  to  Another’s  call.  It  must  still  have  in  it  and 
about  it  the  character  of  a  vital  motion,  —  of  a  leap  upward,  which 
dares  to  count  on  the  prompting  energies  felt  astir  within  it. 

Faith  cannot  transfer  its  business  into  other  hands  to  do  its 
work  for  it.  It  cannot  request  reason  to  take  its  own  place,  or 
achieve  its  proper  results.  There  is  no  possibility  of  devolution 
here  ;  it  cannot  delegate  its  functions  to  this  faculty  or  to  that.  It 
is  by  forgetting  this  that  so  many  men  are  to  be  found,  at  the  close 
of  many  arguments  of  which  they  fully  acknowledge  the  convin¬ 
cing  force,  still  hovering  on  the  brink  of  faith,  never  quite  reaching 
it,  never  passing  beyond  the  misery  of  a  prolonged  and  nerveless 
suspense.  They  hang  back  at  the  very  crisis,  because  they  have 
hoped  that  their  reasoning  powers  would,  by  their  own  force,  have 
made  belief  occur.  They  are  like  birds  on  a  bough,  who  should 
refuse  to  fly  until  they  have  fully  known  that  they  can.  Their 
suspense  would  break  and  pass,  if  once  they  remembered  that,  to 
enter  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  they  must  always  be  as  little  chil¬ 
dren.  They  must  call  upon  the  child  within  them.  At  the  end, 
as  at  the  beginning,  of  all  the  argumentative  work,  it  is  still  the 
temper  of  a  child  which  they  must  bring  into  play.  There  must 
still  be  the  energy  of  self-committal,  —  the  movement  of  a  brave 
surrender.  Once  let  them  turn,  enforced  by  all  the  pressure  of 
reasonable  evidence,  to  this  secret  fount  of  life  within  the  self, 
and  back  flows  the  strength  which  was  theirs  long  ago,  when  the 
inspiration  of  their  innate  sonship  moved  sweetly  in  them,  breed¬ 
ing  confidence,  secure  of  itself,  undaunted  and  unfatigued.  That 
sonship  abides  in  us  all,  cumbered  and  clouded  though  it  be  by 
our  sin ;  it  abides  on  and  on,  fed  by  the  succors  of  a  Father 
Who  can  never  forget  or  forsake,  and  Who  is  working  hitherto  to 
recover  and  redeem.  And  while  it  abides,  faith  is  still  possible. 
For  its  native  motions  are  the  spontaneous  outcome  of  that  spirit¬ 
ual  kinship  which,  if  once  alive  and  free,  impels  us  towards  Him 
by  Whose  love  we  have  been  begotten.  Reason  and  feeling,  proof 
and  argument,  —  these  are  means  and  instruments  by  which  we 
can  invoke  this  sonship  into  action,  and  release  it  from  much 
which  fetters  and  enslaves.  But  it  is  the  actual  upspringing  force 
of  the  sonship  itself,  which  alone  can  be  the  source  of  belief. 
And  as  it  is  given  to  all  to  be  sons  of  God,  through  the  eternal 
sonship  of  Christ,  therefore  it  is  open  to  all  to  count  upon  possess¬ 
ing  the  conditions  of  faith  in  God. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  DOCTRINE  OF  GOD. 


AUBREY  MOORE. 


II. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  DOCTRINE  OF  GOD . 

I.  The  object  of  this  essay  is  not  to  discuss  the  so-called  ‘  proofs  ’ 
of  the  existence  of  God,  but  to  show  what  the  Christian  doctrine  of 
God  is,  and  how  it  has  grown  to  be  what  it  is,  out  of  the  antago¬ 
nisms  of  earlier  days  ;  and  then  to  ask  :  What  fuller  realization  of 
God's  revelation  of  Himself  is  He  giving  us  through  the  contradic¬ 
tions  and  struggles  of  to-day?  if  it  is  true  that  ‘the  only  ultimate 
test  of  reality  is  persistence,  and  the  only  measure  of  validity 
among  our  primitive  beliefs  the  success  with  which  they  resist  all 
efforts  to  change  them,’1  it  is  of  first  importance  to  discover 
what  it  is  which,  through  all  the  struggles  of  past  history,  the  reli¬ 
gious  nature  of  man  has  persistently  clung  to.  Much  which  was 
once  dear  to  the  religious  consciousness,  and  which  seemed  at  the 
time  to  be  an  integral  part  of  the  religious  idea,  has  been  given  up. 
A  former  age  abandoned  it  with  regret,  and  looked  forward  with 
gloomy  foreboding.  A  later  age  looks  back  with  thankfulness,  and 
recognizes  ‘  the  good  Hand  of  our  God  ’  leading  us  to  truer  knowl¬ 
edge  of  Himself. 

It  would  be  idle  to  deny  —  after  all  due  allowance  has  been  made 
for  the  natural  tendency  to  believe  that  the  present  is  the  critical 
moment,  not  only  for  us,  but  for  the  world  at  large  —  that  the  crisis 
of  the  present  day  is  a  very  real  one,  and  that  the  religious  view  of 
God  is  feeling  the  effects  of  the  change  which  is  modifying  our 
views  of  the  world  and  man.  When  such  a  fundamental  idea  is 
challenged,  men  are  naturally  tempted  to  adopt  one  of  two  equally 
one-sided  attitudes,  —  to  commit  themselves  either  to  a  policy  of 
unintelligent  protest,  or  to  a  policy  of  unconditional  surrender. 
And  if  the  one  is  needlessly  despairing,  the  other  is  unwarrantably 
sanguine.  The  one  asks  :  ‘  How  much  must  I  give  up,  of  what 
religion  has  always  been  to  me,  that  a  little  of  the  old  may  sur¬ 
vive  amidst  the  new?’  The  other  asks:  ‘How  little  of  the  old 
need  I  keep,  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  the  ready  acceptance  of 
the  new?’  The  one  view  is  pessimist,  the  other  optimist.  Both 
have  their  representatives  in  our  day,  and  each  party  is  pro- 

1  Fiske,  Idea  of  God,  p.  139,  quoting  II.  Spencer. 


43 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


foundly  conscious  of  the  danger  to  which  the  other  is  exposed. 
The  advocates  of  the  one  view,  finding  themselves  ‘in  a  place 
where  two  seas  meet/ think  it  safer  to  4 run  the  ship  aground;’ 
those  of  the  other,  4  seeing  they  cannot  bear  up  against  the  wind/ 
prefer  to  4  let  her  drive.’  But  if  the  spirit  of  the  one  is  merely 
protestant,  the  spirit  of  the  other  is  certainly  not  catholic. 

In  contrast  with  these  one-sided  views,  we  propose  to  approach 
the  question  in  the  full  conviction  that  the  revelation  of  God  in 
Christ  is  both  true  and  complete,  and  yet  that  every  new  truth 
which  flows  in  from  the  side  of  science,  or  metaphysics,  or  the 
experience  of  social  and  political  life,  is  designed  in  God’s  provi¬ 
dence  to  make  that  revelation  real,  by  bringing  out  its  hidden 
truths.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  the  Christian  revelation  of  God 
claims  to  be  both  final  and  progressive  :  final,  for  Christians  know 
but  one  Christ,  and  do  not  4  look  for  another ;  ’  progressive, 
because  Christianity  claims  each  new  truth  as  enriching  our  knowl¬ 
edge  of  God,  and  bringing  out  into  greater  clearness  and  distinct¬ 
ness  some  half-understood  fragment  of  its  own  teaching.  There 
are,  no  doubt,  always  to  be  found  Christians,  who  are  ready  to 
treat  new  knowledge  as  the  Caliph  Omar  treated  the  books  in  the 
library  of  Alexandria,  — 4  they  agree  with  the  Koran,  and  are  unne¬ 
cessary,  or  they  disagree  with  it,  and  must  be  destroyed.’  But  an 
intelligent  Christian  will  not  ask, 4  Does  this  new  truth  agree  with 
or  contradict  the  letter  of  the  Bible  ?  ’  but  4  How  does  it  interpret 
and  help  us  to  understand  the  Bible  ?  ’  And  so  with  regard  to  all 
truth,  whether  it  comes  from  the  side  of  science,  or  history,  or 
criticism,  he  adopts  neither  the  method  of  protest  nor  the  method 
of  surrender,  but  the  method  of  assimilation.  In  the  face  of  new 
discoveries,  the  only  question  he  is  anxious  to  answer  is  this  : 
4  What  old  truth  will  they  explain,  or  enlighten,  or  make  real 
to  us?  What  is  this  new  world  of  life  and  interest  which  is 
awaiting  its  consecration  ?  44  Truth  is  an  ever-flowing  river,  into 

which  streams  flow  in  from  many  sides.” 1  What  is  this  new 
stream  which  is  about  to  empty  itself,  as  all  knowledge  must, 
into  the  great  flood  of  Divine  truth,  44  that  the  earth  may  be  filled 
with  the  glory  of  the  Lord  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea  ”  ?  ’ 

Such  a  hopeful  attitude  does  not,  indeed,  imply  that  the  assimi¬ 
lation  of  the  new  truths  will  go  on  as  a  matter  of  course.  The 
Christian  knows  that  the  acceptance  of  truth  is  a  moral,  as  well  as 
an  intellectual  matter,  and  in  the  moral  world  there  is  no  place  for 
laisser  faire.  He  expects  to  be  called  upon  to  struggle ;  he 


1  St.  Clem.  Alex.,  Strom.,  I.  v. 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God . 


49 


expects  that  the  struggle  will  need  his  utmost  effort,  moral  and 
intellectual.  His  work  is  both  to  keep  and  to  claim  ;  to  hold  fast 
the  faith  ‘  once  for  all  delivered  to  the  saints,’  and  yet  to  see  in 
every  fragment  of  truth  a  real  revelation  of  the  mind  and  will  of 
God.  He  has  no  cut-and-dried  answer  to  objections  ;  he  does 
not  boast  that  he  has  no  difficulties.  But  he  does  claim  to  look 
out  upon  the  difficulties  of  his  day,  not  only  fearlessly,  but  with 
hope  and  trust.  He  knows  that  Christianity  must  triumph  in  the 
end,  but  he  does  not  expect  all  difficulties  to  be  removed  in  a 
moment.  And  he  is  strong  enough,  if  need  be,  to  wait. 

II.  Whether  any  one  is  really  guilty  of  what  Hume  calls  the 
‘  multiplied  indiscretion  and  imprudence  ’  of  dogmatic  atheism, 
whether  positivism  can  rightly  be  so  classed,  whether  agnosticism 
is  not  atheism  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  are  questions  which 
fortunately  lie  outside  the  scope  of  the  present  inquiry.  As  for 
polytheism,  it  has  ceased  to  exist  in  the  civilized  world.  Every 
theist  is,  by  a  rational  necessity,  a  monotheist.  But  we  find  our¬ 
selves,  in  the  present  day,  face  to  face  with  two  different  views  of 
God,  which,  though  they  constantly,  perhaps  generally,  overlap, 
and  even  sometimes  coincide,  yet  imply  different  points  of  view, 
and  by  a  process  of  abstraction  can  be  held  apart  and  contrasted 
with  one  another.  Many  devout  Christians  are  philosophers  and 
men  of  science  ;  many  men  of  science  and  philosophers  are  devout 
Christians.  But  the  God  of  religion  is  not  the  God  of  science 
and  philosophy.  Ideally,  every  one  will  allow  that  the  religious 
idea  of  God  and  the  scientific  and  philosophical  idea  of  God  must 
be  identical ;  but  in  actual  fact  it  is  not  so,  and  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  the  development  of  both,  there  is  a  real  antagonism.  To 
accept  this  antagonism  as  absolute  is,  by  a  necessary  consequence, 
to  compel  one  to  give  way  to  the  other.  We  cannot  long  hold 
two  contradictory  truths.  We  find  ourselves  compelled  to  choose. 
We  may  have  Religion  or  Philosophy,  but  not  both. 

Very  few,  however,  are  prepared  to  go  this  length.  It  is  much 
more  usual  to  get  rid  of  the  antagonism  by  adopting  one  of  two 
alternative  methods. 

(i)  Of  these  the  first  is  a  suggested  division  of  territory,  in 
which  religion  is  allotted  to  faith,  and  philosophy  and  science  to 
reason.  Such  an  expedient,  though  not  uncommonly,  and  perhaps 
even  wisely,  adopted  by  individuals,  who  refuse  to  give  up  either 
of  two  truths  because  they  cannot  harmonize  them,  becomes  ridicu¬ 
lous  when  seriously  proposed  as  a  solution  of  the  difficulty. 
Moreover  the  proposed  division  of  territory  is  unfair  to  start  with. 
‘  Give  us  the  Knowable,  and  you  shall  have  the  rest,  which  is  far 

4 


50 


The  Religion  of  the  lncarnatio7i . 


the  larger  half,’  sounds  like  a  liberal  offer  made  by  science  to  re¬ 
ligion,  till  we  remember  that  every  advance  in  knowledge  transfers 
something  from  the  side  of  the  unknown  to  the  side  of  the  known, 
in  violation  of  the  original  agreement.  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  calls 
this  division  of  territory  a  ‘reconciliation.’1  But  if  anything  in 
the  world  could  make  religion  hate  and  fear  science  and  oppose 
the  advance  of  knowledge,  it  is  to  find  itself  compelled  to  sit  still 
and  watch  the  slow  but  sure  filching  away  of  its  territory  by  an 
alien  power.  We  say  nothing  here  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  Herbert 
Spencer’s  division  ignores  the  truth  that  knowledge  of  correlatives 
must  be  of  the  same  kind,2  and  that  if  knowledge  has  to  do  with 
one  and  faith  with  the  other,  either  faith  must  be  a  sort  of  knowl¬ 
edge,  or  knowledge  a  sort  of  faith.  We  merely  notice  the  unfair¬ 
ness  of  a  division  which  assumes  rationality  for  science,  and  leaves 
irrationality  to  religion. 

Curiously  enough,  however,  there  are  many  devout  people,  who 
would  be  horrified  at  the  thought  that  they  had  borrowed  from 
Agnosticism,  and  who  have  nevertheless  made  a  similar  division  of 
territory.  They  are  the  people  who  stake  all  upon  what  reason 
cannot  do.  They  have  no  interest  in  the  progress  of  knowledge. 
The  present  gaps  in  science  are  their  stronghold,  and  they  natur¬ 
ally  resist  every  forward  step  in  knowledge  as  long  as  they  can, 
because  each  new  discovery  limits  the  area  in  which  alone,  accord¬ 
ing  to  their  imperfect  view,  faith  can  live.  Every  triumph  of  sci¬ 
ence  on  this  theory,  as  on  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer’s,  becomes  a  loss, 
not  a  gain,  to  religion.  The  very  existence  of  God  is  bound  up 
with  that  part  of  His  work  in  nature  which  we  cannot  understand, 
and,  as  a  consequence,  we  reach  the  paradox  that  the  more  we 
know  of  His  working,  the  less  proof  we  have  that  He  exists.  Mod¬ 
ern  apologetic  literature  abounds  in  this  kind  of  argument.  It  is 
the  devout  form  of  the  worship  of  the  unknowable.  Yet  it  is  no 
wonder  that  people  who  take  refuge  in  gaps  find  themselves  awk¬ 
wardly  placed  when  the  gaps  begin  to  close. 

(2)  The  other  alternative  is  even  more  commonly  adopted,  for 
it  fits  in  well  with  the  vagueness  and  want  of  precision  in  language, 
which  is  at  a  premium  in  dealing  with  religious  questions.  This 
consists  in  frittering  away  the  meaning  of  definite  terms  till  they  are 
available  for  anything,  or  adopting  a  neutral  term  which,  by  a  little 
management  and  stretching,  will  include  opposites.  This  is  the 
method  of  indefinite  inclusion.  The  strength  of  the  former  alter¬ 
native  lay  in  the  appearance  of  sharp  scientific  delimitation  of  terri- 

1  Cf.  Herbert  Spencer,  First  Principles,  Pt.  I. 

2  See  this  criticism  excellently  stated  in  Caird’s  Phil,  of  Religion,  pp.  32  etc. 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God. 


51 


tory ;  the  strength  of  the  latter,  in  its  unlimited  comprehensiveness. 
A  term  is  gradually  stripped  of  the  associations  which  make  it  what 
it  is,  it  is  4  defecated  to  a  pure  transparency,’  and  then  it  is  ready 
for  use.  The  term  ‘  God  ’  is  made  merely  ‘  a  synonym  for  nature  ;  ’  1 
religion  becomes  ‘  habitual  and  permanent  admiration,’ 2  or  ‘  de¬ 
vout  submission  of  the  heart  and  will  to  the  laws  of  nature  ;  ’ 3 
enthusiasm  does  duty  for  worship,  and  the  antagonism  between 
religion,  and  anything  else  disappears. 

Now  so  far  as  this  represents,  negatively,  a  reaction  against  intol¬ 
erance  and  narrowness,  and  positively  a  desire  for  unity,  there  is 
not  a  word  to  be  said  against  it.  Its  tone  and  temper  may  be  both 
Christian  and  Catholic.  But  the  method  is  a  radically  false  one. 
It  is  not  a  real,  but  only  an  abstract,  unity  which  can  be  reached 
by  thinking  away  of  differences.  As  Dr.  Martineau  says,  in  his  ex¬ 
cellent  criticism  of  this  method,  ‘  You  vainly  propose  an  eirenicon 
by  corruption  of  a  word.’  ‘  The  disputes  between  science  and 
faith  can  no  more  be  closed  by  inventing  “  religions  of  culture  ” 
than  the  boundary  quarrels  of  nations  by  setting  up  neutral  provinces 
in  the  air.’ 4  ‘  A  God  that  is  merely  nature,  a  Theism  without  God, 

a  Religion  forfeited  only  by  the  “  nil  admirari,”  can  never  reconcile 
the  secular  and  the  devout,  the  Pagan  and  the  Christian  mind.’  5 
As  well  might  we  attempt  to  reconcile  the  partisans  of  the  gold 
and  silver  shields  by  assuring  them  that  in  reality  the  shields  were 
silver  gilt. 

We  are  left,  then,  face  to  face  with  the  opposition  between  the 
religious  and  the  philosophic  or  scientific  view  of  God.  The  coun¬ 
ter-charges  of  superstition  and  anthropomorphism  on  the  one  side, 
and  of  pantheism  and  rationalism  on  the  other,  serve  to  brin^  out 
the  antithesis  of  the  two  views.  No  division  of  territory  is  possi¬ 
ble.  There  may  be  many  sciences,  each  with  its  defined  range  of 
subject-matter;  but  there  can  be  only  one  God.  And  both° reli¬ 
gion  and  philosophy  demand  that  He  shall  fill  the  whole  region  of 
thought  and  feeling.  Nor  can  any  confusion  or  extension  of  terms 
help  us  to  a  reconciliation,  or  blind  us  long  to  the  true  issue, 
i  he  conflict  is  too  real  and  too  keenly  felt  to  admit  of  any  patched- 
up  peace.  The  idea  of  God,  which  is  to  claim  alike  the  allegiance 
ot  religion  and  philosophy,  must  not  be  the  result  of  compromise, 
but  must  really  and  fully  satisfy  the  demands  of  both. 

-1  Natural  Religion,  iii.  45,  quoted  bv  Martineau. 

2  Ibid.,  iv.  74. 

3  Frederic  Harrison’s  New  Year’s  Address,  1884. 

4  A  Study  of  Religion,  i.  11,  12. 

5  Ibid.,  pi  15. 


52 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


III.  What  then  are  these  demands  considered  in  abstraction 
from  one  another?  We  are  at  once  met  by  the  difficulty  of  defining 
religion.  But  if  we  cannot  define  religion,  or  trace  it  back  to  its 
hidden  source,  we  can  at  least  discover  its  characteristics,  as  we 
know  it  after  it  has  emerged  from  the  obscurity  of  prehistoric 
times,  and  before  any  conscious  attempt  has  been  made  to 
reconcile  religion  and  philosophy,  or  find  a  middle  term  between 
them. 

Now,  traditional  definitions  of  religion  given,  as  it  were,  from 
within,  and  constructed  with  no  view  of  opposition  to,  or  recon¬ 
ciliation  with  philosophy,  are  agreed  in  representing  religion  as 
a  relation  between  man  and  the  object  or  objects  of  his  worship ; 
and  this  implies,  not  only  the  inferiority  of  the  worshipper  to  that 
which  he  worships,  but  also  something  of  likeness  between  the 
related  terms,  since,  as  even  Strauss  allows,  in  our  inmost  nature 
we  feel  a  kinship  between  ourselves  and  that  on  which  we  depend.1 
It  is  quite  indifferent  which  of  the  rival  etymologies  of  the  word 
‘  religion  ’  we  adopt.2  St.  Augustine,3  following  Lactantius,  speaks 
of  religion  as  ‘  the  bond  which  binds  us  to  One  Omnipotent  God.’ 
St.  Thomas 4  adopts  almost  unchanged  the  definition  given  by 
Cicero ;  it  is  1  that  virtue  which  has  to  do  with  the  worship  of  a 
higher  nature  known  as  the  Divine.’  It  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that,  for  the  modern  religious  world,  religion  implies  at  least  the 
practical  belief  in  a  real  and  conscious  relation  between  the  inner 
life  of  man  and  an  unseen  Being.  And  whatever  of  mystery 
there  may  be  about  that  unseen  Being,  it  would  seem  as  if  a  real 
relationship  demands  so  much  of  likeness  in  the  related  terms  as 
is  implied  in  personality. 

It  is  here  that  we  reach  the  point  at  which  we  are  able  to  distin¬ 
guish  between  the  religious  and  the  philosophical  ideas  of  God.  It 
is  not  that  religion  and  philosophy  necessarily  contradict  or  exclude 
one  another,  "but  that  they  approach  the  problem  with  different 
interests.  Religion  demands  a  personal  object,  be  that  object  one 
or  many.  It  is  committed  to  the  belief  in  a  moral  relationship 
between  God  and  man.  Philosophy  demands  unity,  whether  per¬ 
sonal  or  impersonal.  For  philosophy  is  nothing  if  it  does  not 
completely  unify  knowledge.  And  it  seems  as  if  each  finds  lack- 

1  Okl  Faith  and  New,  §  41.  #  ... 

2  ‘Hoc  vinculo  pietatis  obstricti  Deo  et  religati  sumus,  unde  ipsa  religio 
nomen  accepit,  non  ut  Cicero  interpretatus  est,  a  relegendo.’  —  Lact.,  Inst., 
iv.  28. 

3  De  vera  religione,  sub  fin. 

4  Sum.  Theol.,  2,  2,  81,  Art.  1. 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God . 


53 


ing  in  the  other  that  which  it  values  most  and  thinks  of  first.  The 
only  hope,  then,  of  reconciliation  is  in  the  idea  of  God  as  per¬ 
sonal,  and  yet  one.  So  long  as  religion  retains  a  trace  of  poly¬ 
theism  or  dualism,  philosophy  can  have  nothing  to  say  to  it.  So 
long  as  philosophy  has  no  room  for  a  personal  God,  religion  must 
exclude  philosophy.  The  whole  issue  of  the  controversy  lies  here. 
If  the  belief  in  a  personal  God  is  to  be  called  anthropomorphism, 
religion  is  hopelessly  anthropomorphic.  With  the  disappearance  of 
anthropomorphism  in  this  sense,  as  Professor  Fiske  rightly  sees,1 
religion  disappears.  But  we  cannot  escape  anthropomorphism, 
though  our  anthropomorphism  may  be  crude  or  critical.2  We  do 
not  read  our  full  selves  into  the  lower  world,  because  we  are  higher 
than  it ;  we  do  not  transfer  to  God  all  that  belongs  to  our  own  self- 
consciousness,  because  we  know  that  He  is  infinitely  greater  than 
we  are.  But  we  should  be  wrong  not  to  interpret  Him  by  the 
highest  category  within  our  reach,  and  think  of  Him  as  self-con¬ 
scious  life.  Christianity  refuses  to  call  this  anthropomorphism, 
though  it  stands  or  falls  with  the  belief  that,  in  his  personality, 
man  is  in  the  image  of  God.  An  anthropomorphic  view  of  God 
for  a  Christian  means  heathenism  or  heresy ;  a  theomorphic  view 
of  man  is  of  the  essence  of  his  faith.3 

The  religious  idea  of  God  may,  of  course,  become  philo¬ 
sophical  without  ceasing  to  be  religious.  If  there  is  to  be  a  religion 
for  man  as  a  rational  being  it  must  become  so.  But  there  is  a 
point  beyond  which,  in  its  desire  to  include  philosophy,  religion 
cannot  go.  It  cannot  afford  to  give  up  its  primary  assumption  of 
a  moral  relationship  between  God  and  man.  When  that  point  is  sur¬ 
rendered  or  obscured,  the  old  religious  terms  become  increasingly 
inapplicable,  and  we  find  ourselves  falling  back  more  and  more  on 
their  supposed  philosophical  equivalents,  —  the  ‘  Infinite  ’  or  the 
‘Absolute,’  or  the  Universal  Substance,  or  the  Eternal  Conscious¬ 
ness,  or  the  First  Cause,  or  the  Omnipresent  Energy.  But  these 
terms,  which  metaphysicians  rightly  claim,  have  no  meaning  for  the 
religious  consciousness,  while  in  metaphysics  proper  ‘  God  ’  is  as 
much  a  borrowed  term  as  ‘  sin  ’  is  in  non-religious  ethics.  Moral 
evil  is  ‘  sin  ’  only  to  those  who  believe  in  God  ;  and  the  infinite  is 
only  ‘  God  ’  to  those  in  whom  it  suggests  a  superhuman  personality 

1  Idea  of  God,  p.  r  17. 

2  See  Seth’s  Hegelianism  and  Personality,  pp.  223,  224  ;  one  or  two  sen¬ 
tences  from  which  are,  almost  verbatim,  transferred  to  the  text. 

3  Justin  Martyr  (Exhort,  ad  Graec.,  ch.  xxxiv.)  explains  the  anthropo¬ 
morphisms  of  polytheism  as  an  inversion  of  the  truth  that  man  is  in  the 
imasre  of  God. 


54 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


with  whom  they  are  in  conscious  relation.  Even  when  religion 
and  philosophy  both  agree  to  speak  of  God  as  ‘  the  Infinite/  for 
the  one  it  is  an  adjective,  for  the  other  a  substantive.  The  moment 
we  abandon  the  idea  of  God  as  personal,  religion  becomes  merged 
in  philosophy,  and  all  that  properly  constitutes  religion  disappears. 
God  may  exist  for  us  still  as  the  keystone  in  the  arch  of  knowledge, 
but  He  is  no  longer,  except  as  a  metaphor,  4  our  Father,  which  is 
in  heaven.’ 

IV.  Religion  then,  properly  and  strictly,  and  apart  from  exten¬ 
sions  of  the  term  made  in  the  interests  of  a  reconciliation,  assumes 
a  moral  relationship,  the  relationship  of  personal  beings,  as  existing 
between  man  and  the  Object  of  his  worship.  When  this  ceases, 
religion  ceases ;  when  this  begins,  religion  begins.  But  of  the  begin¬ 
nings  of  religion  we  know  nothing.  Prehistoric  history  is  the 
monopoly  of  those  who  have  a  theory  to  defend.  But  we  may  take 
it  as  proven  that  it  is  at  least  as  true  that  man  is  a  religious,  as  that 
he  is  a  rational  animal.  4  Look  out  for  a  people,’  says  Hume,  ‘  en¬ 
tirely  destitute  of  religion.  If  you  find  them  at  all,  be  assured  that 
they  are  but  few  degrees  removed  from  brutes.’  1  Hume’s  state¬ 
ment  is  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  those  who  would  prove  that  there 
is  no  innate  consciousness  of  Deity  are  driven  to  appeal  to  the  case 
of  deaf-mutes  and  degraded  savages.2  Whether  monotheism  was 
a  discovery  or  a  recovery,  whether  it  rose  on  the  ruins  of  poly¬ 
theism,  or  whether  polytheism  is  a  corruption  of  a  purer  faith,  is  a 
question  we  need  not  attempt  to  settle.  Nor  need  we  decide  the 
priority  of  claim  to  the  title  of  religion  as  between  nature-worship, 
or  ancestor-worship,  or  ghost-worship.  The  farther  we  go  back  in 
history,  the  more  obviously  true  is  the  charge  of  anthropomorphism 
so  commonly  brought  against  religion.  The  natural  tendency  to 
treat  the  object  of  religion  as  personal  exists  long  before  any  at¬ 
tempt  is  made  to  define  the  conditions  or  meaning  of  personality, 
and  includes  much  which  is  afterwards  abandoned.  For  religion 

O 

in  its  earliest  stages  is  instinctive,  not  reasoned.  It  is  4  naively 
objective.’  It  is  little  careful  to  clear  up  its  idea  of  the  nature 
and  character  of  its  God.  It  is  still  less  anxious  to  prove  His 
existence.  It  is  only  when  conscience  grows  strong,  and  dares  to 
challenge  the  religion  which  had  been  instinctively  accepted,  that 
men  learn  to  see  that  God  not  only  is,  but  must  be,  the  expression 
of  the  highest  known  morality.  It  is  only  when  the  light  of  con¬ 
scious  reason  is  turned  back  upon  religious  ideas  that  polytheism 
becomes  not  merely  untrue,  but  impossible  and  inconceivable. 

1  Hume,  Essays,  ii.  425 


2  H.  Spencer,  i±.ccl.  Inst.,  p.  1. 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God. 


55 


What  religion  starts  with  is  not  any  theory  of  the  world,  but  an 
unreasoned  belief  in  a  Being  or  beings,  however  conceived  of,  who 
shall  be  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  like  the  worshipper,  but  raised 
above  him  by  the  addition  of  power,  if  not  omnipotence ;  great¬ 
ness,  if  not  infinity ;  wisdom,  if  not  omniscience. 

But  while  implying  from  the  first  something  of  a  moral  relation¬ 
ship  between  man  and  the  Object  of  his  worship,  religion  does  not 
always  conceive  of  that  Object  as  necessarily  holy  or  perfectly 
wise.  There  are  religions  which  are  both  immoral  and  childish. 
They  have  in  them  no  principle  of  growth,  and  therefore  they  are 
the  opponents  alike  of  moral  and  intellectual  progress.  Tantum 
relligio potuit  suadcre  malorum  is  the  reflexion  of  Christian  apolo¬ 
gists,  as  well  as  of  die  Roman  poet,  on  the  religions  of  heathenism. 
Hence,  it  is  argued,  ‘  Religion  is  the  enemy  of  morals  and  of 
science.  Away  with  it  !  It  is  a  mere  matter  of  feeling,  which 
cannot  and  ought  not  to  stand  before  the  imperious  challenge  of 
conscience  and  reason.’  Such  a  view  has  both  truth  and  false¬ 
hood  in  it.  The  religious  idea  of  God  must  be  able  to  justify 
itself  to  our  moral  and  to  our  rational  nature,  on  pain  of  ceasing  to 
exist.  But  religion  cannot  be  thus  shut  up  to  one  part  of  our 
nature,  nor  can  one  part  of  our  nature  be  set  against  the  rest. 
There  is,  as  Herbert  Spencer  is  fond  of  pointing  out,1  a  kind  of 
idolatry  of  reason  in  the  present  day.  Reason  has  exposed  many 
superstitions,  only  to  become  itself  the  final  object  of  superstition. 
Men  forget  that,  after  all,  reasoning  is  only  ‘  re-coordinating  states 
of  consciousness  already  coordinated  in  certain  simpler  ways,’  and 
that  that  which  is  unreasoned  is  not  always  irrational.  Rationality 
in  man  is  not  shut  up  in  one  air-tight  compartment.  ‘  There  is  no 
feeling  or  volition  which  does  not  contain  in  it  an  element  of 
knowledge.’ 2  This  is  the  truth  which  Hegel  has  seized  when  he 
speaks  of  religion  as  ‘  reason  talking  naively.’  You  can  no  more 
shut  up  faith  to  the  compartment  of  feeling,  than  reason  to  the 
compartment  of  the  intellect.  Religion  claims  the  whole  man, 
and  true  religion  is  that  which  can  make  good  its  claim. 

The  natural  history  of  religion,  then,  is  the  history  of  the  process 
by  which  that  which  has  its  secret  birthplace  behind  all  the  distinc¬ 
tions  of  modern  psycholog}7,  establishes  its  claim  on  man,  absorb¬ 
ing  into  itself  all  that  is  best  and  truest  in  his  moral  and  intellectual 
being,  as  conscience  and  reason  successively  emerge  into  conscious 
activity  :  while,  from  another  point  of  view,  it  is  the  progressive 
purification  of  the  religious  idea  of  God  till  He  is  revealed  as, 


1  Psych,  vol.  ii.  §§  3SS-391. 


2  Caird,  Philosophy  of  Religion,  p.  162. 


56 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


what  He  is  to  a  thinking  Christian  of  to-day,  the  Object  of  reverent 
worship,  the  moral  ideal,  the  truth  of  nature  and  of  man. 

Such  an  end  is  not  attained  in  a  moment.  It  is  the  result  of  a 
process  with  which  we  are  familiar  elsewhere,  viz.  evolution  by 
antagonism.  The  true  has  to  be  separated  from  the  false.  Im¬ 
moral  and  irrational  conceptions  of  God  have  to  be  thrown  aside. 
It  is  only  after  what  looks  like  an  internecine  struggle  between 
religion  and  morality  that  man  learns  the  truth  about  the  character 
of  God,  and  only  after  a  conflict  with  philosophy  and  science, 
which  seems  to  threaten  the  very  life  of  religion,  that  he  learns 
what  can  be  known  of  the  Divine  Nature.  For  among  religions 
too  there  is  a  struggle  for  existence,  in  which  the  fittest  survive. 
And  the  test  of  fitness  is  the  power  to  assimilate  and  promote 
moral  and  intellectual  truth,  and  so  to  satisfy  the  whole  man.  An 
ideally  perfect  religion  is  not  ‘  morality  touched  by  emotion,’  but  a 
worship  which  reflects  itself  in  the  highest  known  morality,  and  is 
interpreted  and  justified  to  itself  by  reason.  It  is  this  process,  as 
we  know  it  in  history,  that  we  proceed  to  examine. 

V.  The  statement  that  religion,  even  in  its  most  elementary 
forms,  takes  for  granted  some  relationship  of  likeness  between  the 
worshipper  and  the  Object  or  objects  of  his  worship,  by  no  means 
implies  that  all  religion  associates  the  highest  morality  with  its  idea 
of  God.  On  the  contrary,  we  know  that  not  only  are  there  immoral 
religions,  but  that  immorality  sometimes  lingers  on  in  religion  long 
after  it  is  condemned  elsewhere,  and  that  a  people  will  permit  as  a 
religious  duty  what,  according  to  their  thinking,  nothing  but  reli¬ 
gion  would  justify.  We  cannot,  then,  at  all  accurately  gauge  the 
moral  condition  of  a  people  by  the  received  teaching  about  its 
gods,  for  morality  is  often  far  in  advance  of  religion,  and  the  charac¬ 
ter  which  in  a  god  or  goddess  is  protected  by  a  religious  halo  is 
looked  upon  as  hateful  or  impure  in  man  or  woman.  The  sense 
of  dependence,  which,  though  it  does  not  constitute  the  whole,  is 
yet  an  essential  element  in  the  religious  consciousness,  the  awe 
which,  in  a  low  state  of  development,  shows  itself  in  a  grovelling 
fear  of  the  invisible  beings,  makes  it  impossible  for  the  worshipper 
to  judge  his  god  by  the  standard  he  applies  to  his  fellow-man.  The 
god  may  be  lustful,  but  his  lusts  must  be  respected ;  he  is  strong 
and  vengeful,  and  must  by  all  means  be  kept  in  a  good  temper, 
cajoled  or  outwitted,  or  bribed  or  humored.  His  commands 
must  be  obeyed,  without  question  or  resistance.  But  by  and  by 
the  moral  nature  learns  its  strength,  and  begins  to  assert  its  inde¬ 
pendent  right  to  speak.  Morality  outgrows  religion.  The  relations 
between  religion  and  morals  become  more  strained.  Some  heretic 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God. 


57 


dares  to  say  that  the  gods  are  immoral  •  that  they  are  men  ‘  writ 
large,’  and  bad  men  too.  Their  claim  to  reverence  is  challenged. 
There  is  a  moral  awakening.  Soon  the  old  religion  is  treated  with 
scorn  and  contempt,  and  either  a  new  religion  takes  its  place,  com¬ 
ing  in  as  it  were  on  the  crest  of  the  wave  of  moral  reformation,  or 
the  old  religion  is  purified  and  becomes  the  foster-mother  of  the 
new  morality,  giving  to  it  a  divine  sanction,  and  receiving  from  it 
in  turn  new  strength  and  vitality.  Or  failing  these,  men  abandon 
religion  in  the  supposed  interest  of  morals.  A  religion  with  mys¬ 
teries  may  be  tolerated,  but  a  religion  once  seen  to  be  immoral  is 
at  an  end.  For  a  time  ethics,  with  a  background  of  metaphysics 
or  politics,  prevails  ;  but  gradually  it  tends  to  drift  into  a  mere  pru- 
dentialism,  while  a  merely  mystical  philosophy  tries  in  vain  to  sat¬ 
isfy  those  deeper  instincts  which  reach  out  to  the  unseen. 

In  the  history  of  Greek  thought  the  collision  came  in  the  days 
of  Xenophanes.  Long  before  what  is  sometimes  called  the  era 
of  conscious  morality,  Greece  had  outgrown  its  traditional  religion. 
Greek  philosophy  at  its  birth  was  mythology  rationalized,  and  the 
beginning  of  independent  morality  in  Greece  showed  itself  in  a 
criticism  of  the  religious  teaching  of  Homer  and  Hesiod.  The 
scathing  satire  of  Xenophanes  reminds  us  at  times  of  the  way  in 
which  Isaiah  speaks  of  the  idolatry  of  his  day.  It  is  not  only 
wrong,  it  is  capable  of  a  reductio  ad  absurdinn.  x\nthropomorph- 
ism,  immorality,  childish  folly,  —  these  are  the  charges  which 
Xenophanes  brings  against  the  worship  of  Magna  Grascia.  An¬ 
axagoras  had  already  been  banished  for  suggesting  that  the  god 
Helios  was  a  mass  of  molten  iron,  but  Xenophanes  turns  into  open 
ridicule  the  religion  of  his  day. 

‘  Homer  and  Hesiod,’  he  says,  ‘  ascribe  to  the  gods  all  that 
among  men  is  held  shameful  and  blameworthy,  —  theft,  adultery, 
and  deceit.’ 1 

‘  One  God  there  is  mightiest  among  gods  and  men,  who  neither 
in  form  nor  thought  is  like  to  men.  Yet  mortals  think  the  gods 
are  born,  and  have  shape  and  voice  and  raiment  like  themselves. 
Surely  if  lions  and  cows  had  hands,  and  could  grave  with  their 
hands,  and  do  as  men  do,  they  too  would  make  gods  like  them¬ 
selves  ;  horses  would  have  horse-like  gods,  and  cows  gods  with 
horns  and  hoofs.’ 2 

A  hen  the  age  of  moral  philosophy  begins,  amidst  the  unsettle- 
ment  of  the  sophistic  period,  the  same  protest  is  taken  up  by 

1  Ritter  and  Preller,  Hist.  Phil.  Graec.,  7th  ed.  §  S2. 

2  Ibid..  §  8a.  * 


53 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


Plato.  In  Xenophanes  the  protest  of  the  reason  and  the  con¬ 
science  went  together.  In  Plato  the  criticism  of  the  received 
theology  is  more  distinctly  a  moral  criticism.  God  cannot  lie  or 
deceive.  He  cannot  be  the  cause  of  evil.  He  is  good,  and  only 
the  source  of  good.  He  is  true  in  word  and  deed.  If  not,  we 
cannot  reverence  Him.  It  cannot  be  true  that  the  gods  give  way 
to  violent  emotions,  still  less  to  sensuality  and  envy  and  strife.1 
‘  For  God  cannot  be  unrighteous,  He  must  be  perfectly  righteous, 
and  none  is  like  Him  save  the  most  righteous  among  men.’  2 

Here  we  have  a  collision  between  an  immoral  religious  con¬ 
ception  of  God  and  a  morality  which  is  becoming  conscious  of 
its  own  strength.  And  what  was  the  result?  Religion  in  Greece 
received  its  death-blow.  It  had  no  real  recuperative  power.  It 
could  not  absorb  and  claim  the  new  morality.  Homer  and 
Hesiod,  the  4  Bible  ’  of  the  Athenian,  were  too  profoundly  im¬ 
moral.  A  Kephalus  might  go  back  in  silent  protest  to  his  sacri¬ 
fice,  but  the  youth  of  Athens  turned  from  religion  to  morality. 
When  we  pass  from  Plato  to  Aristotle,  the  last  trace  of  religion  in 
morals  has  disappeared.  Theology  has  become  Metaphysics,  and 
has  no  place  in  the  world  of  practical  life.  The  religious  element 
has  disappeared  from  philosophy,  and  is  only  revived  in  the  mysti¬ 
cism  of  Neo-Pythagoreanism  and  Neo-Platonism.  In  metaphysics 
and  science  we  owe  everything  to  the  Greeks ;  in  religion,  as 
distinguished  from  theology,  we  owe  nothing. 

From  the  Greeks  we  turn  to  the  Jews,  to  whom  alone,  among 
the  nations  of  the  pre-Christian  age,  we  of  the  modern  world 
trace  back  our  religious  lineage.  We  speak  of  the  religion  of  the 
Old  Testament  as  ‘revealed  ’  in  contrast  with  all  other  pre-Chris¬ 
tian  religions.  Is  that  distinction  tenable  ?  If  so,  what  does  it 
mean,  and  what  justifies  us  in  making  it?  It  is  clear  that  the 
answer  must  be  sought  in  what  the  Old  Testament  revelation  is, 
rather  than  in  the  process  by  which  the  Jews  became  the  appointed 
depositaries  of  it.  For  whatever  were  the  prehistoric  elements 
out  of  which  the  religion  of  Israel  came,  whether  Assyrian  or 
Accadian  or  Indo-German  or  Egyptian,  and  whatever  were  the 
steps  by  which  Israel  was  led3  to  that  doctrine  of  God  which  con¬ 
stituted  its  mission  and  its  message  to  the  world,  as  we  look  back 
from  the  point  of  view  of  Christianity  we  see  that  the  religion  of 
Israel  stands  to  the  teaching  of  Christ  in  a  relation  in  which  no 

1  Plat.,  Rep.,  377-385. 

2  Thaet.,  176  C. 

3  H.  Spencer  of  course  follows  Kuenen  in  assuming  a  polytheistic  origin 

of  Hebrew  monotheism.  See  Kuenen,  Religion  of  Israel,  i.  223. 


59 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God. 

Pagan  religion  stands.1  The  Law  and  the  Prophets  were  for  all 
the  world  ‘a  sacred  school  of  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  the 
ordering  of  the  soul.’2  If  it  is  true  that  the  Bible  only  records 
the  later  and  more  important  stages  in  a  process  which  began  in 
prehistoric  times  amidst  the  various  forms  of  polytheistic  worship ; 
even  if  it  could  be  shown  that  the  history,  as  we  have  it,  has  been 
subjected  to  successive  revisions,  that  its  laws  have  been  codified,  its 
ritual  elaborated,  its  symbolism  interpreted,  —  it  would  still  remain 
true  that  the  religion  of  Israel,  which  begins  where  its  history 
begins,  and  of  which,  indeed,  its  history  is  little  more  than  the 
vehicle,  is  bound  up  with  the  assertion  of  Monotheism.  The 
central  fact  of  its  revelation  is  this,  ‘  Hear,  O  Israel  !  the  Lord  our 
God  is  One  Lord.’  The  central  utterance  of  its  law  is,  ‘Thou 
shalt  have  none  other  gods  but  Me.’  The  unity  of  God,  that 
truth  which  other  religions  were  feeling  after  and  tending  towards, 
stands  out  clearly  and  distinctly  as  the  characteristic  of  the  religion 
of  Israel,  and  is  fearlessly  claimed  as  an  inheritance  from  the 
patriarchal  age. 

And  not  less  remarkable  than  the  assertion  of  the  unity  of  God 
is  the  assumption  that  this  One  God  is  a  God  of  Righteousness. 
He  is  ‘  a  God  of  truth  and  without  iniquity ;  just  and  right  is  He.’ 
Here,  again,  it  was*  not  that  the  religion  of  Israel  asserted  what 
other  religions  denied,  but  that  Israel  proclaimed  clearly  and  with 
increasing  certainty  a  truth  which  the  highest  contemporary  reli¬ 
gions  were  struggling  to  express.  In  the  religion  of  Israel  the 
pre-Christian  world  rose  to  articulate  religious  utterance.  Its 
highest  and  truest  intuitions  found  a  voice.  Israel  had  yet  much 
to  learn  and  much  to  unlearn  as  to  what  true  morality  is.  It  had 
anthropomorphisms  of  thought  and  language  to  get  rid  of.  It  had 
to  rise  in  Psalmist  and  Prophet  to  moral  heights  unknown  to  the 
patriarchal  age.  But  the  remarkable  thing  is  that  the  claim  is 
made.  Morality  is  claimed  for  God  ;  God  is  declared  to  be  irre¬ 
vocably  on  the  side  of  what  man  knows  as  righteousness.  And  this 

1  It  is  strange  that  Mr.  Darwin  should  have  failed  to  see  that  this  was 
the  answer  to  his  difficulty.  It  appeared  to  him,  he  tells  us  (Autobiography, 
p  308),  ‘  utterly  incredible  that  if  God  were  now  to  make  a  revelation  to  the 
Hindoos,  he  would  permit  it  to  be  connected  with  the  belief  in  Vishnu, 
Siva,  etc.,  as  Christianity  is  connected  with  the  Old  Testament.’  Incredible, 
no  doubt.  But  why  ?  For  the  very  reason  which  makes  it  ‘  incredible  ’  that 
man  should  be  evolved  directly  from  a  fish,  as  Anaximander  is  said  to  have 
taught,  and  not  incredible  that  he  should  be  evolved,  as  Darwin  teaches, 
from  one  of  the  higher  vertebrates.  The  very  idea  of  development,  whether 
in  species  or  religions,  implies  a  law  and  order  in  the  development. 

2  St.  Athan.,  De  Incarn.,  c.  xii. 


6o 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

truth  is  proclaimed  not  as  a  discovery  but  as  a  revelation  from  God 
Himself.  It  was  this,  not  less  than  the  proclamation  of  mono¬ 
theism,  which  made  the  teaching  of  the  Old  Testament  what  it 
was.  It  consciously  transformed  the  natural  law  of  ‘  might  is 
right  ’  into  the  moral  truth  that  ‘  right  is  might.’ 

And  the  consequences  of  this  new  departure  in  the  religious 
history  of  man  were  far-reaching.  It  made  the  difference  between 
the  religion  of  Israel  and  all  other  religions  a  difference  not  merely 
of  degree  but  of  kind.  The  worship  of  the  Lord  and  the  worship 
of  the  heathen  gods  becomes  not  only  a  conflict  between  the  true 
and  the  false  in  religion,  but  between  the  moral  and  the  immoral 
in  practice.  More  than  this,  it  changes  the  mere  emotional  feeling 
of  awe  and  dependence  on  invisible  powers  into  trust  and  confi¬ 
dence.  If  God  is  irrevocably  on  the  side  of  right,  the  nation  or 
the  individual  that  is  struggling  for  the  right  is  fighting  on  the 
side  of  God.  It  was  this  which  made  the  great  Hebrew  leaders, 
and  the  Psalmists  after  them,  take  it  for  granted  that  their  cause 
was  the  cause  of  God,  and  that  the  Lord  of  Hosts  was  with  them. 
Even  the  wars  of  extermination  were  the  expression  in  act  of  the 
utter  antagonism  between  good  and  evil,  the  cause  of  God  and 
that  of  His  enemies.  And  when  Saul  spared  Agag  it  was  from 
no  excess  of  charity,  no  glimpse  of  a  higher  morality ;  it  was  an 
act  of  moral  weakness.  Finally,  this  claim  of  morality  for  God 
precluded  the  possibility  of  such  a  collision  as  took  place  in  the 
history  of  the  Greeks.  The  progressive  development  of  morals 
in  the  Old  Testament,  and  the  gradual  unfolding  of  a  perfect 
character 1  was  also  for  Israel  a  progressive  revelation  of  the 
character  of  God.  Step  by  step  the  religious  idea  advanced  with 
moral  progress.  And,  as  they  advance,  the  contrast  with  other 
religions  becomes  more  marked.  ‘  It  was  the  final  distinction 
between  Polytheism  and  the  religion  of  Israel  that  the  former 
emphasized  power,  the  latter  the  moral  element  to  which  it  subor¬ 
dinated  and  conjoined  power.’ 2  And  this  moral  conception  of 
God  was  constantly  kept  before  the  people.  If  they  lapse  into 
idolatry  and  adopt  heathen  practices  and  heathen  ideas  of  God, 
the  prophets  are  ready  with  the  warning  that  God  is  the  God  of 
Israel  only  because  Israel  is  a  chosen  people  to  bear  His  name 
and  His  truth  before  the  world ;  and  if  they  are  false  to  their 
mission,  they  will  be  rejected.  If,  again,  the  sacrificial  system 
loses  its  moral  significance  as  the  recognition  of  the  holiness  of 

1  It  is  needless  to  say  that  this  section  is  largely  indebted  to  Dean  Church’s 
Discipline  of  the  Christian  Character. 

2  Edinb.  Rev.,  Apr.,  18S8,  p.  512. 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God .  61 

God  and  the  sinfulness  of  the  sinner,  and  the  forward -pointing 
look  towards  the  great  moral  fact  of  the  Atonement,  and  becomes 
merely  ritual,  and  perfunctory,  and  formal,  the  prophets  dare  to 
denounce  even  the  divinely  ordered  sacrifices  as  things  which  God 
hates. 

Yet  it  was  not  that,  in  the  religion  of  Israel,  morality  was  made 
the  essential  thing,  a  nucleus  of  morals,  as  it  were,  with  a  halo  of 
religious  emotion  round  it.  It  was  that  the  religious  and  the 
moral  consciousness  are  brought  together  in  a  real  unity.  To  love 
the  Lord  is  to  hate  evil.  God  is  One  Who  gives  His  blessing  to 
the  righteous,  while  the  ungodly  and  him  that  delighteth  in  wicked¬ 
ness  doth  His  soul  abhor.  He,  then,  who  would  ascend  into  the 
hill  of  the  Lord  and  stand  in  His  holy  place,  must  have  clean 
hands,  and  a  pure  heart,  and  a  lowly  mind.  The  Lord  God  is 
holy.  He  has  no  pleasure  in  wickedness,  neither  shall  any  evil 
dwell  with  Him.  Righteousness  and  judgment  are  the  habitation 
of  Llis  seat.  The  sacrifice  that  He  loves  is  the  sacrifice  of  right¬ 
eousness.  He  is  to  be  worshipped  in  the  beauty  of  holiness. 
What  He  requires  of  man  is  that  he  shall  do  justly,  and  love  mercy, 
and  walk  humbly  with  his  God. 

All  this,  which  comes  out  no  doubt  with  increasing  clearness  in 
the  Psalms  and  Prophets,  is  already  implicit  in  that  earlier  claim 
made  by  the  religion  of  Israel,  that  the  true  God  is  on  the  side  of 
righteousness,  and  that  to  be  false  to  righteousness  is  to  be  a  trai¬ 
tor  to  God.  In  this  union  of  religion  and  morality  neither  is  sacri¬ 
ficed  to  the  other.  Each  gains  from  its  union  with  the  other. 
The  religious  idea  of  God,  and  the  religious  emotions  which 
gather  round  it,  are  progressively  purified  with  the  growth  of  moral 
ideas  ;  and  morality  receives  new  life  and  strength  when  the  moral 
law  is  seen  to  be  the  unfolding  of  the  character  of  a  Righteous 
God,  and  moral  evil  is  known  as  1  sin  ’  against  a  Personal  Being. 
The  earnest  moral  protest  which  in  Greece  was  directed  against 
the  national  religion,  is  found  in  the  Old  Testament  making  com¬ 
mon  cause  with  the  national  religion  against  the  immoral  beliefs  of 
heathenism.  Hence  the  Jew  was  not  called  upon,  as  the  Greek 
was,  to  choose  between  his  religion  and  his  conscience.  He  never 
felt  the  strain  which  men  feel  in  the  present  day  when  a  high  and 
pure  morality  seems  ranged  against  religious  faith.  For  the  Jew 
every  advance  in  moral  insight  purified,  while  it  justified,  that  idea 
of  God,  which  he  believed  had  come  down  to  him  from  the 
‘  Father  of  the  Faithful.’  His  hope  of  immortality,  his  faith  in  the 
ultimate  triumph  of  the  God  of  Israel,  were  alike  based  upon 
the  conviction  that  God  is  a  God  of  justice  and  mercy,  and  that  the 


62 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

Righteous  One  could  not  fail  His  people,  or  suffer  His  holy  One  to 
see  corruption.  Even  though  with  the  growth  of  morality,  and  the 
fuller  unfolding  of  the  character  of  God,  there  came,  like"  a  shadow 
cast  by  light,  the  deepening  consciousness  of  sin  as  the  barrier 
between  man  and  God,  the  Jew  refused  to  believe  that  the  separa¬ 
tion  was  forever.  Sin  was  a  disease  which  needed  healing,  a  bond¬ 
age  which  called  for  a  deliverer,  a  state  of  indebtedness  from  which 
man  could  not  free  himself.  But  Israel  believed  in  and  looked  for¬ 
ward  to,  with  confidence  and  hope,  the  Redeemer  who  should 
come  to  Zion  and  save  His  people  from  their  sins. 

1  he  final  revelation  of  Christianity  came  outwardly  as  a  contin¬ 
uation  and  development  of  the  religion  of  Israel,  and  claimed  to 
be  the  fulfilment  of  Israel’s  hope.  It  was  a  ‘  republication  ’  of  the 
highest  truth  about  God  which  had  been  realized  hitherto.  For  it 
came  ‘  not  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil.’  God  is  still  the  Eternally  One, 
the  Eternally  Righteous.  Not  sacrifice,  but  holiness,  not  external 
‘  works,’  but  inward  ‘  faith,’  not  the  deeds  of  the  law,  but  the 
righteousness  which  is  of  God,  —  this  is  what  He  requires.  He 
is  still  the  God  of  Israel.  But  Israel  according  to  the  flesh  had 
ceased  to  be  the  Israel  of  God,  and  the  children  of  faithful  Abra¬ 
ham,  in  whom,  according  to  the  ancient  promise,  all  the  families 
of  the  earth  should  be  blessed,  are  to  be  gathered  from  east  and 
west,  and  north  and  south,  from  circumcised  and  uncircumcised, 
barbarian,  Scythian,  bond  or  free,  and  recognized  as  one  family 
under  the  one  Father.  If  Christianity  had  been  this  and  this 
only,  Christ  might  have  claimed  to  be  a  great  prophet,  breaking 
the  silence  of  400  years,  restoring  the  ancient  faith,  and  truly 
interpreting  and  carrying  forward  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  revela¬ 
tion.  But  He  claimed  to  be  more  than  this.  He  claimed,  as  the 
Son  of  God,  to  be  not  only  the  true,  but  the  only  Revealer  of  the 
Father.  For  ‘no  man  knoweth  the  Father  but  the  Son,  and  he  to 
whom  the  Son  shall  reveal  Him.’  What  fresh  characteristics,  then, 
has  this  new  revelation  to  add  to  the  Old  Testament  teaching 
about  God?  He  is  still  One,  the  only  God.  He  is  perfect 
Righteousness,  yet  as  even  the  older  religion  knew,  a  God  of 
lovingkindness  and  tender  mercy,  ‘  Who  wills  not  the  death  of 
the  sinner.’  But  more  than  all  this,  He  is  now  revealed  to  man 
as  Infinite  Love,  the  One  Father  of  humanity,  W  hose  only  be¬ 
gotten  Son  is  Incarnate  and  ‘made  man  that  we  may  be  made 
God.’  Not  one  jot  or  tittle  of  the  old  revelation  of  God,  as  a 
God  of  Righteousness,  is  lost  or  cancelled.  The  moral  teaching  is 
stern  and  uncompromising  as  ever.  God’s  love,  which  is  Himself, 
is  not  the  invertebrate  amiability,  or  weak  good-naturedness  to 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God . 


63 


which  some  would  reduce  it.  4  The  highest  righteousness  of  the 
Old  Testament  is  raised  to  the  completeness  of  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount.’1  4  The  New  Testament,’  it  has  been  said,  4  with  all  its 
glad  tidings  of  mercy,  is  a  severe  book.’ 2  For  the  goodness  and 
the  severity  of  God  are,  as  it  were,  tiie  convex  and  the  concave  in 
His  moral  nature.  But  what  seized  upon  the  imagination  of  man¬ 
kind  as  the  distinctive  revelation  of  Christianity  was  the  infinite 
love  and  tenderness  and  compassion  of  this  Righteous  God  for 
sinful  man.  It  was  this  which  shone  out  in  the  character  of 
Christ.  He  was  Very  God,  with  a  Divine  hatred  of  evil,  yet  living 
as  man  among  men,  revealing  the  true  idea  of  God,  and  not  only 
realizing  in  His  human  life  the  moral  ideal  of  man,  but  by  taking 
human  nature  into  Himself  setting  loose  a  power  of  moral  regene¬ 
ration,  of  which  the  world  had  never  dreamed. 

The  advance  which  the  Gospel  of  Christ  makes  upon  the  Old 
Testament  revelation  consists,  then,  not  only  in  the  new  truth  it 
teaches  as  to  the  character  of  God,  but  in  the  new  relation  which 
it  establishes  between  God  and  man.  So  soon  as  men  learn  the 
Old  Testament  truth  that  God  is  eternally  on  the  side  of  righteous¬ 
ness,  the  awe  and  cringing  fear  which  lie  behind  heathen  reli¬ 
gions,  and  justify  us  in  calling  them  superstitions,  give  place  to 
trustful  confidence,  which  deepens  into  faith,  and  gathers  round  it 
those  affections  and  desires  for  union  with  God  which  find  expres¬ 
sion  in  the  book  of  Psalms.  The  saints  of  the  Old  Testament 
could  4  rest  in  the  Lord  ’  and  wait  for  the  vindication  of  His 
Righteousness  in  human  life  ;  they  could  yearn  for  His  presence 
and  hope  for  the  day  when  they  should  4  see  the  King  in  His 
beauty.’  But  they  were  yet  separated  from  Him  by  the  unoblit¬ 
erated  fact  of  sin.  Enoch  4  walked  with  God,’  Abraham  was 
called  4  the  friend  of  God,’  Moses  4  the  Lord  knew  face  to  face,’ 
David  was  4  a  man  after  God’s  own  heart,’  Daniel  4  a  man  greatly 
beloved.’  But  one  and  all  of  these  fell  short,  and  necessarily  fell 
short,  of  the  closeness  of  that  union  which  is  the  Christian’s  birth¬ 
right.  In  the  Gospel,  God  is  revealed  as  one  with  man.  And 
this  truth  changed  the  whole  attitude  and  atmosphere  of  worship. 
There  was  worship  still,  for  humanity  was  not  merged  and  lost  in 
Godhead.  There  is  no  Christian  ring  about  the  statement 3  that 
4  in  Christianity,  in  the  consciousness  that  he  is  partaker  of  the 
Divine  existence,  man  no  longer  sustains  the  relation  of  Depend¬ 
ence,  but  of  Love.’  Rather  the  antithesis  between  dependence 

1  Discipline  of  the  Christian  Character,  p.  85.  2  Ibid.,  p.  87. 

3  Hegel,  Phil,  of  Hist ,  p.  247,  Eng.  tr. 


64 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


and  freedom  is  destroyed.  As  perfect  love  casts  out  fear,  yet 
leaves  reverence,  so  the  consciousness  of  union  with  God,  as  dis¬ 
tinct  from  absorption  in  Him,  while  it  destroys  the  last  remnant 
of  what  is  servile  and  degrading  in  religious  emotion,  and  gives 
man  freedom,  yet  gives  the  freedom  of  loving  dependence  upon 
God.  And  by  this  gift  it  sets  free  new  affections  and  appeals  to 
new  motives.  It  was  the  assured  consciousness  of  union  with 
God  which  gave  the  first  Christians  their  power  in  the  great  moral 
struggles  of  their  day.  Their  moral  ideal,  with  its  loftiness,  its 
purity,  its  perfect  truthfulness,  would  by  its  very  perfectness  have 
paralyzed  effort,  had  they  not  believed  that  they  were  one  with 
Him  Who  had  not  only  proclaimed  but  realized  it,  that  they  could 
do  all  things  through  Christ  which  strengthened  them.  And  the 
horror  of  sin,  which  was  a  characteristic  note  of  Christian  ethics, 
was  due  to  the  same  fact.  Unrighteousness  not  only,  as  under 
the  Old  Testament,  ranged  a  man  on  the  side  of  the  enemies  of 
God,  but  according  to  its  degree  tended  to  break  the  supernatural 
bond  which  through  the  Incarnation  united  men  with  God.  Im¬ 
purity,  which  meant  so  little  for  the  civilized  world  of  the  first 
Christian  centuries,  was  for  the  Christian  not  defilement  only,  but 
sacrilege,  for  his  body  was  God’s  temple.  The  love  of  the  world 
was  enmity  against  God  ;  yet  the  neglect  of  social  duties,  and  of  all 
that  is  now  summed  up  in  the  4  service  of  man,’  was  for  the  Chris¬ 
tian  ipso  facto  the  declaring  himself  outside  the  love  of  God,  just 
as,  conversely,  the  love  of  the  brethren  was  the  proof  that  he  had 
4  passed  from  death  unto  life.’ 

Thus  in  primitive  Christianity  the  religious  and  the  moral  con¬ 
sciousness  were  at  one,  as  in  the  Old  Testament ;  but  both  are  now 
raised  to  their  highest  level.  Free  scope  is  given  for  the  develop¬ 
ment  of  both  and  the  satisfaction  of  the  demands  of  both,  in  Chris¬ 
tian  life  and  Christian  worship.  Side  by  side  they  fought  and 
triumphed  over  heathenism,  taking  up  and  assimilating  all  that  was 
best  and  truest  in  non-Christian  ethics.  And  though  Christians 
were  long  in  learning  what  manner  of  spirit  they  were  of,  it  seemed 
as  if  a  real  conflict  between  religion  and  morals,  within  the  area 
of  Christianity,  was  impossible. 

And  yet  again  and  again,  in  the  history  of  Christianity,  such  a 
conflict  has  come  about.  Every  moral  reformation  within  the 
Church  was  a  protest  of  the  conscience  against  unworthy  views  of 
God  ;  every  new  Order  that  was  founded  was  a  nursery  of  moral 
reformation.  Yet  every  protest  against  formalism  and  unreality  in 
religion,  every  attack  on  ecclesiasticism  and  ‘priestcraft’  in  the 
Church,  or  on  worldliness  and  laxity  in  professing  Christians,  owed 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God.  65 

its  strength  to  the  reassertion  of  the  truth,  that  in  the  Christian  idea 
religion  and  morals  are  inseparably  united.  The  moral  reformer 
always  claimed  Christianity  on  his  side  when  attacking  the  Chris¬ 
tianity  of  his  day.  This  was  conspicuously  so  in  the  great  moral 
upheaval  of  the  sixteenth  century.  In  actual  fact  religion  and 
morality  had  separated.  And  the  nearer  one  got  to  the  centre  of 
Western  Christendom,  the  more  open  and  unabashed  the  neglect 
of  morality  was.  In  Italy  of  the  fifteenth  century  renaissance  we 
see,  in  strange  confusion,  ‘  all  that  we  love  in  art,  and  all  that  we 
loathe  in  man.’1  It  seemed  as  if,  as  in  the  old  riddle,  a  swarm 
of  bees  had  settled  in  the  dead  lion’s  carcass,  and  there  was  sweet¬ 
ness  instead  of  strength,  corruption  where  once  was  life.  When  the 
new  century  opened,  Borgia  was  the  supreme  Bishop  of  the  West, 
and  the  strength  of  the  protest  of  Christianity  against  immorality 
may  be  gathered  from  the  list  of  prices  to  be  paid  to  the  pardoner. 
The  devout  retired  from  the  contest  into  the  severer  discipline  of 
the  monastic  life,  and  hoped  against  hope  for  the  days  of  a  Papa 
angelicas ,  who  never  came.  Yet  when  the  strained  relations  of 
religion  and  morals  resulted  in  a  revolution,  it  never  occurred  to 
those,  who  had  a  moral  reformation  at  heart,  to  say  that  religion 
was  outgrown,  and  morality  must  henceforth  take  its  place.  They 
appealed  from  the  Christianity  of  the  sixteenth  century  to  the 
Christianity  of  Christ.  Even  of  those  who,  in  their  fear  pf  popery, 
broke  away  farthest  from  the  Christian  idea  of  God,  all,  if  we 
except  the  Anabaptists,  claimed  the  Bjble  on  their  side.  It  was 
a  genuine  moral  revolt  against  a  religion  which  had  come  to  tol¬ 
erate  immorality.  The  hatred  of  ‘  ecclesiasticism  ’  and  ‘sacerdotal¬ 
ism  ’  was  not  at  first  a  rejection  of  the  Church  and  the  Priesthood, 
but  a  protest  against  anything  which,  under  the  sacred  name  of 
religion,  becomes  a  cover  for  unreality,  or  makes  sin  a  thing  easy 
to  be  atoned  for.  The  Reformation  was  a  moral  protest,  and  its 
results  were  seen  within  as  well  as  outside  the  Roman  communion. 
The  Council  of  Trent  was  a  reforming  Council ;  the  Jesuits  were 
the  children  of  the  Reformation  ;  and  Roman  Christianity,  in  the 
strength  of  its  own  moral  revival,  even  in  the  moment  of  defeat 
became  again  ‘  a  conquering  power.’ 2 

On  the  other  hand,  those  whose  first  impulse  was  a  protest  in 
favor  of  a  moral  religion  and  a  belief  in  a  God  who  hates  ini¬ 
quity,  have  bequeathed  to  the  world  a  legacy  of  immorality  of 
which  they  never  dreamt,  and  of  which  we,  in  the  present  day, 
are  feeling  the  full  effects.  Lutheranism  starts  with  the  belief 


1  Cont.  Rev.,  Oct.,  1878,  p.  645. 

5 


2  Ranke,  Popes,  i.  395. 


66 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


that  God  is  love  :  Calvinism  with  the  conception  of  God  as 
power.  With  the  former,  the  desire,  at  all  costs,  to  guard  the  belief 
in  the  freedom  of  God’s  grace  led  to  a  morbid  fear  of  righteous¬ 
ness,  as  if  it  were  somehow  a  rival  to  faith.  With  the  latter, 
a  one-sided  view  of  the  power  of  God  gradually  obscured  the 
fact  that  righteousness  and  justice  eternally  condition  its  exercise. 
If  the  one  was,  as  history  shows  us,  in  constant  danger  of  Antino- 
mian  developments,  the  other  struck  at  the  root  of  morality  by 
making  God  Himself  unjust.  Forensic  fictions  of  substitution, 
immoral  theories  of  the  Atonement,  ‘  the  rending  asunder  of  the 
Trinity,’  and  the  opposing  of  the  Divine  Persons,  like  parties  in 
a  lawsuit,1  were  the  natural  corollaries  of  a  theory  which  taught 
that  God  was  above  morality,  and  man  beneath  it. 

How  deeply  these  false  views  of  God  have  influenced  Eng¬ 
lish  religious  thought  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  every  attack  on 
the  moral  as  distinguished  from  the  intellectual  position  of 
Christianity,  is  demonstrably  an  attack  on  that  which  is  not 
Christianity,  but  a  mediaeval  or  modern  perversion  of  it.  J.  S. 
Mill’s  well-known  words,2  1 1  will  call  no  being  good  who  is  not 
what  I  mean  when  I  apply  that  epithet  to  my  fellow-creatures/ 
was  a  noble  assertion  of  ‘  immutable  morality  ’  against  a  religion 
which,  alas !  he  mistook  for  Christianity.  The  conscience  of 
to-day  —  and  it  is  a  real  gain  that  it  should  be  so  —  refuses  to 
believe  that  the  imprimatur  of  religion  can  be  given  to  that 
which  is  not  good,  or  that  God  would  put  us  to  moral  confu¬ 
sion.  It  would  rather  give  up  religion  altogether  than  accept 
one  which  will  not  indorse  and  advance  our  highest  moral 
ideas. 

But  men  do  not  always  stop  to  make  the  necessary  distinc¬ 
tions.  On  the  one  side  they  see  a  traditional  view  of  religion 
which  they  cannot  harmonize  with  the  highest  morality;  on  the 
other  they  see  a  morality,  which,  though  it  has  grown  up  under 
the  shadow  and  shelter  of  religion,  seems  strong  enough  to  stand 
alone.  And  their  first  thought  is,  ‘  Away  with  religion.  We 
have  outgrown  it.  Henceforward  we  will  have  morals  unencum¬ 
bered  by  religion.’  What  would  be  the  effect  on  the  morals  of 
a  nation  of  thus  renouncing  the  religious  sanction,  it  is  not  safe 
to  predict.  In  individuals  certainly  it  sometimes  has  disastrous 
results.  But  there  is  one  thing  which  those  who  talk  about  the 
1  secularization  of  morals 7  3  seldom  take  into  account,  and  that  is 

1  Dellinger,  The  Church  and  the  Churches,  p.  239. 

2  Examination  of  Sir  W.  Hamilton’s  Philosophy,  p.  103. 

3  H.  Spencer,  Data  of  Ethics,  pref. 


II*  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God, 


67 


the  effect  on  what,  in  contrast  to  morals,  they  call  religion.  The 
religious  consciousness  always  refuses  to  be  treated  as  defunct,  and 
the  religious  emotions,  if  they  no  longer  find  their  object  in  a  God 
of  Righteousness,  and  are  no  longer  controlled  by  morality,  will 
not  be  satisfied  with  the  worship  of  the  Unknowable  or  of  ideal¬ 
ized  humanity,  but  will  avenge  themselves,  as  they  have  done  again 
and  again,  in  superstition.1 

And  the  attempt  to  do  without  religion  in  morals  is  as  unphiloso- 
phical  as  it  is  dangerous.  It  is  parallel  to  what,  in  the  region  of 
morality  proper,  we  all  recognize  as  a  false  asceticism.  It  is  the 
attempt  to  crush  out,  rather  than  to  purify.  When  men  realize  the 
danger  of  giving  the  rein  to  the  animal  passions,  there  are  always 
to  be  found  moralists  who  will  treat  these  passions  as  in  themselves 
evil,  and  advocate  the  suppression  of  them.  And  only  after  an 
antinomian  revolt  against  that  false  teaching  do  men  realize  that 
morality  is  not  the  destruction,  but  the  purification  and  regulation  of 
the  passions.  So  with  religion  and  the  religious  emotions.  The  func¬ 
tion  of  morality  is  to  purify  the  religious  idea  of  God  ;  and  religion 
and  morality  are  strong  and  true  in  proportion  as  each  uses  the 
help  of  the  other.  But  neither  can  treat  the  other  as  subordinate. 
God  is  more  than  what  Kant  makes  Him,  —  the  ultimate  justification 
of  morality ;  morality  is  more  than  what  some  religious  people 
would  have  it,  —  obedience  to  the  positive  commands  of  even  God 
Himself.  In  experience  we  find  them  separate  and  even  opposed  ; 
ideally  they  are  one ;  united,  not  confused.  Separated,  religion 
tends  to  become  superstitious ;  morality  to  degenerate  into  a  mere 
prudentialism,  or  at  least  an  expanded  utilitarianism.  United,  reli¬ 
gion  gives  to  right  that  absolute  character  which  makes  it  defiant  of 
consequences ;  morality  safeguards  the  idea  of  God  from  aught 
that  is  unworthy  of  the  worship  of  moral  beings. 

As  the  result  of  all  the  conflicts  which  have  raged  round  the  idea 
of  God  so  far  as  morals  are  concerned,  one  truth  has  burned  itself 
into  the  consciousness  of  both  the  apologists  and  opponents  of  reli¬ 
gion,  a  truth  as  old  indeed  as  the  religion  of  Israel,  but  only  slowly 
realized  in  the  course  of  ages,  the  truth,  namely,  that  the  religious 
idea  of  God  must  claim  and  justify  itself  to  the  highest  known 
morality ;  and  no  amount  of  authority,  ecclesiastical  or  civil,  will 
make  men  worship  an  immoral  God.  And  already  that  truth  has 
thrown  back  its  light  upon  questions  of  Old  Testament  morality. 

1  See  Ihne’s  remarks  on  the  separation  of  morals  and  religion  in  Rome  at 
the  time  of  the  Punic  wars.  ‘The  religious  cravings  were  not  satisfied,  and 
men  were  carried  either  to  the  schools  of  Greek  philosophy  or  to  the  grossest 
and  meanest  superstition.’  —  Hist,  of  Rome,  ii.  477,  478. 


68 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


We  no  longer  say,  ‘  It  is  in  the  Bible,  approved  or  allowed  by  God, 
and  therefore  it  must  be  right.’  It  was  this  view  which,  in  every 
age,  has  given  its  protection  to  religious  wars  and  intolerance  and 
persecution.  But  we  look  back  and  see  in  the  perspective  of  his¬ 
tory  how  God  in  every  age  takes  man  as  he  is  that  He  may  make 
him  what  he  is  not.  We  see  in  the  Old  Testament  not  only  the 
revelation  of  the  Righteousness  of  God,  but  the  record  of  the  way 
in  which,  in  spite  of  waywardness  and  disobedience,  He  raised  His 
people  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth. 

VI.  But  the  religious  idea  of  God  in  our  day,  as  in  former  ages, 
is  challenged  not  only  by  conscience,  but  by  the  speculative  reason. 
And  there  is  a  close  parallelism  between  the  two  conflicts.  When 
religion  and  morals  are  opposed,  men  naturally  say,  ‘  Give  us  mor¬ 
als  ;  away  with  religion.’  And  the  answer  is  :  ‘True  religion  is 
moral :  that  which  is  not  moral  is  not  true  ;  and  morality  without- 
religion  will  not  only  leave  the  religious  consciousness  unsatisfied, 
but  fall  short  of  its  own  true  perfection.’  So  when  religion  and 
philosophy  are  opposed,  men  say  once  more,  ‘  Give  us  reason  ; 
away  with  religion.’  And  the  answer  again  is  :  ‘  True  religion  is 
rational :  if  it  excludes  reason,  it  is  self-condemned.’  And  reason 
without  religion  fails  of  its  object,  since,  if  philosophy  can  find  no 
place  for  religion,  it  cannot  explain  man. 

But  here  again  nothing  is  gained  by  confusing  the  issue,  or  deny¬ 
ing  the  actual  fact  of  the  collision.  We  may  say,  with  Lacordaire, 

‘  God  is  the  proper  name  of  truth,  as  truth  is  the  abstract  name  of 
God.’  But  it  is  not  a  matter  of  indifference  from  which  point  we 
start,  whether  with  religion  we  approach  God  first  as  a  moral  Being, 
or  with  philosophy  seek  for  Him  as  the  truth  of  man  and  nature. 
The  motto  of  Oxford  University,  Dominus  Illuminatio  mea ,  alto¬ 
gether  changes  its  meaning  if  we  read  it  Illuminatio  Dominus  mens. 
As  R^ville  says,  ‘A  religion  may  become  philosophical,  but  no 
philosophy  has  ever  founded  a  religion  possessing  real  historical 
power.’ 1  And  it  is  a  fact  patent  to  the  observation  of  all,  that  it 
is  easier  to  make  religion  philosophical  than  to  make  philosophy  in 
any  real  sense  religious.  The  reason  of  this  is  obvious.  Religion 
is  not  only  first  in  the  field,  it  covers  the  whole  ground  before 
either  morals  or  science  have  attained  their  full  development,  or 
even  emerged  into  conscious  life.  But  when  we  speak  of  philoso¬ 
phy,  we  have  reached  a  stage  in  which  the  reason  has  already 
separated  itself  from,  and  set  itself  over  against,  the  religious  con¬ 
sciousness,  and  must  either  absorb  religion  into  itself  (in  which  case 


1  History  of  Religions,  p.  22. 


II.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God. 


69 


religion  ceases  to  be  religion),  or  must  leave  religion  outside,  though 
it  may  borrow  and  appropriate  religious  terms.  If,  then,  the  idea 
of  God  is  to  appeal  to  both  the  religious  consciousness  and  the 
speculative  reason,  it  must  be  by  claiming  philosophy  for  religion, 
not  by  claiming  religion  for  philosophy.  It  is  from  within,  not 
from  without,  that  religion  must  be  defended. 

In  Greece  the  traditional  polytheism  was  challenged,  as  we  have 
seen,  at  once  on  the  side  both  of  morals  and  metaphysics.  To 
Xenophanes,  indeed,  the  unity  of  God  is  even  more  essential  than 
His  morality,  and  the  attack  on  anthropomorphism  is  as  much  an 
attack  upon  the  number  of  the  gods  of  Hesiod  as  upon  the  im¬ 
moral  character  attributed  to  them.  In  the  unity,  however,  which 
Xenophanes  contends  for,  the  religious  idea  of  God  is  so  atten¬ 
uated  that  we  hardly  know  whether  the  One  God  is  a  person,  or 
an  abstraction.  Indeed,  it  is  hard  to  see  how  a  champion  of 
Eleaticism  could  consistently  have  held  the  personality  ol  God,  as 
we  understand  it,  without  falling  under  his  own  charge  of  an¬ 
thropomorphism.  In  Plato  the  same  difficulty  appears,  only 
complicated  or  relieved  by  the  fact  that  while  from  the  moral  side 
he  talks  like  a  theist,  from  the  metaphysical  his  teaching  is  pan¬ 
theistic.  Is  the  ‘Idea  of  God’  personal?  Is  it  a  God  we  can 
love  and  worship,  or  only  a  God  we  can  talk  about?  Is  the  vision 
of  Er  a  concession  to  popular  views,  or  the  vehicle  of  moral  and 
religious  truth?  The  question  is  hardly  more  easy  to  decide  with 
regard  to  Aristotle.  The  religious  atmosphere,  which  lingers  on 
in  Plato,  has  disappeared.  What  of  the  religious  belief?  Did 
Aristotle  in  any  intelligible  sense  hold  the  personality  of  God? 
Great  names  are  ranged  on  both  sides  of  the  mediaeval  con¬ 
troversy.  Who  shall  decide?  But  whether  or  no  anything  of 
religion  survived  in  philosophy,  it  was  not  strong  enough  to  with¬ 
stand  the  attack  of  the  moral  and  the  speculative  reason,  still  less 
to  claim  these  as  its  own.  It  is  not  on  the  side  of  religion,  but  of 
speculation,  that  we  are  debtors  to  the  Greeks. 

Among  the  Jews,  on  the  other  hand,  speculation  seems  hardly 
to  have  existed.  Religion  was  satisfied  to  make  good  her  claim 
to  the  region  of  morals.  God  was  One,  and  He  was  Righteous ; 
but  the  mystery  which  enveloped  His  nature  the  Old  Testament 
does  not  attempt  to  fathom.  ‘  Clouds  and  darkness  are  round 
about  Him,’  yet  out  of  the  thick  darkness  comes  the  clear,  un¬ 
faltering  truth  that  ‘Righteousness  and  judgment  are  the  habitation 
of  His  seat.’  Jewish  religion  and  Greek  speculation  had  little 
contact,  and  less  kinship,  till  the  best  days  of  both  were  passed. 
But  in  the  days  of  the  dispersion  we  get  the  beginning  of  the 


7  o 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


mingling  of  those  streams  which  were  only  united  under  the  higher 
unity  of  Christianity.  ‘With  the  Jews  of  the  East,’  it  has  been 
said,  ‘rested  the  future  of  Judaism;  with  them  of  the  West,  in  a 
sense,  that  of  the  world.  The  one  represented  old  Israel,  groping 
back  into  the  darkness  of  the  past ;  the  other  young  Israel,  stretch¬ 
ing  forth  its  hands  to  where  the  dawn  of  a  new  day  was  about  to 
break.’ 1  The  Septuagint  translation  threw  open  to  the  Greek 
world  the  sacred  books  of  Israel.  The  Apocrypha,  with  all  its 
glorification  of  Judaism,  was  both  an  apology  and  an  eirenicon.2 
It  seemed  as  if  in  Wisdom  personified  might  be  found  a  middle 
term  between  the  religion  of  Israel  and  the  philosophy  of  Greece, 
and  the  life  of  righteousness  might  be  identified  with  the  life  of 
true  wisdom.  The  Jews  of  Alexandria  were  thus  willing  to  find  a 
strain  of  truth  in  Greek  philosophy,  and  Alexandrian  Greeks  were 
found  ready  ‘  to  spiritualize  their  sensuous  divinities.’ 3  But  the 
result  was  a  compromise,  in  which  the  distinctive  elements  of  each 
were  not  harmonized,  but  lost.  There  was  no  fusion  as  yet  of 
Jewish  and  Greek  thought,  only  each  was  learning  to  understand 
the  other,  and  unconsciously  preparing  for  the  higher  synthesis  of 
Christianity. 

Whether  we  think  of  Christ  as  the  ‘  Son  of  Man’  or  as  the  Re- 
vealer  of  God,  Christianity  is  bound  to  transcend  national  distinc¬ 
tions,  and  to  claim  not  only  the  whole  of  humanity,  but  the  whole 
of  man,  his  reason  no  less  than  his  heart  and  will.  And  this 
Christ  did  in  a  special  way.  He  not  only  speaks  of  Himself  as 
‘the  Truth,’  and  as  having  come  ‘to  bear  witness  to  the  Truth,’ 
but  the  very  complement  (if  we  may  say  so)  of  His  revelation  of 
the  Father,  was  the  sending  ‘  the  Spirit  of  Truth,’  who  should  teach 
His  disciples  all  things.  This  possession  of  ‘  truth  ’  is  always 
spoken  of  by  Christ  as  a  future  thing,  implicit  indeed  in  Himself, 
Who  is  the  Truth,  but  only  to  be  explicitly  declared  and  brought 
to  remembrance  when  the  Spirit  of  Truth  should  come.  He  was 
to  guide  them  ‘into  all  truth.’  ‘Ye  shall  know  the  truth,  and  the 
truth  shall  make  you  free.’  It  was  inevitable,  then,  that  the  ques¬ 
tion  should  arise,  —  Will  this  religion,  which  has  broken  through 
the  narrowness  of  Judaism,  and  yet  by  its  belief  in  a  God  of  right¬ 
eousness  and  love  combated  and  triumphed  over  heathen  immoral¬ 
ity,  have  the  power  to  assimilate  and  absorb  the  philosophy  of 
Greece  ?  The  great  crisis  in  the  world’s  history,  as  we  see  it,  look¬ 
ing  back  from  the  security  of  eighteen  centuries,  was  this :  Will 

1  Edersheim,  Life  and  Times,  i.  17. 

2  See  Edersheim,  i.  31,  etc. 

3  Hegel,  Philosophy  of  History,  p.  343,  Eng.  tr. 


II.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God.  j\ 

Christianity,  with  all  its  moral  triumphs,  become  a  tributary  to 
Greek  philosophy,  as  represented  by  the  schools  of  Alexandria,  or 
will  it  claim  and  transform  the  rational,  as  it  has  transformed  the 
moral,  progress  of  humanity?  The  answer  of  Christianity  is  un¬ 
hesitating.  Christianity  is  truth,  and  there  is  only  one  truth. 
Christianity  is  wisdom,  and  there  is  only  one  wisdom  ;  for  the  wis¬ 
dom  of  the  world  is  not  wisdom,  but  folly.  And  at  once  the  rival 
claim  is  made.  Why  not  a  division  of  territory?  Knowledge  for 
the  philosopher  ;  faith  for  the  Christian.  The  Gnostics  taught,  as 
a  modern  philosopher  teaches,  that  religion  is  ‘reason  talking 
naively,’  and  that,  good  as  it  is  for  ordinary  people,  the  Gnostic 
can  afford  to  do  without  it.  Every  one  knows  the  answer  of  the 
Apostles  to  the  insidious  suggestions  of  Gnosticism.  To  St.  Peter 
it  is  ‘  a  damnable  heresy,  even  denying  the  Lord  Who  bought  us.’ 1 
To  St.  Paul  it  is  the  ‘  science  falsely  so  called  ;  ’ 2  the  ‘  knowledge 
which  puffs  up;’3  the  ‘wisdom  of  this  world.’4  To  St  John, 
Cerinthus  was  ‘the  enemy  of  the  truth.’ 5  To  St.  Polycarp,  Mar- 
cion  is  ‘  the  first-born  of  Satan.’  It  never  occurred  to  the  Apostles, 
or  the  Apologists  after  them,  to  retreat  into  the  fastnesses  of  a 
reasonless  faith.  For  with  them  faith  was  implicit  knowledge,  and 
the  only  knowledge  that  was  true. 

It  was  the  collision  of  Christianity  with  Greek  thought  which 
gave  rise  to  Christian  theology  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term.  Its 
necessity  was  the  claiming  of  Greek  as  well  as  Jew  ;  its  justification 
was  the  belief  in  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  truth  ;  its  impulse  the 
desire  ‘  to  know  the  things  which  are  freely  given  to  us  by  God.’  0 
The  first  Christians  were  not  theologians.  They  were  ‘  unlearned 
and  ignorant  men.’  When  Christ  preached,  the  common  people 
heard  Him  gladly,  the  publicans  and  the  harlots  believed  Him,  the 
poor  found  in  His  teaching  ‘  good  news,’  and  a  few  fishermen 
devoted  their  lives  to  Him.  But  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  stood 
aloof ;  and  the  rationalistic  Sadducees  asked  Him  captious  ques¬ 
tions  ;  and  the  Herodians,  the  Erastians  of  the  day,  tried  to  involve 
Him  with  the  secular  power.  It  was  only  when  challenged  by  an 
earnest,  but  non-religious  philosophy,  that  reason  came  forward,  in 
the  strength  of  the  Spirit  of  truth,  to  interpret  to  itself  and  to  the 
world  the  revelation  of  Christ.  Religion  and  theology  in  different 
ways  have  to  do  with  the  knowledge  of  God  and  of  spiritual  truth. 
They  have  the  same  object,  God,  but  their  aims  and  their  methods 
are  different.  Religion  knows  God ;  theology  is  concerned  with 


1  2  St.  Pet.  ii.  i. 
4  I  Cor.  iii.  19. 


2  1  Tim.  vi.  20. 
5  Euseb.  iii.  28. 


3  1  Cor.  viii.  6. 
6  1  Cor.  ii.  12. 


72 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


the  idea  of  God.  Religion  sees  ;  theology  thinks.  Religion  begins 
and  ends  in  an  almost  instinctive  attitude  of  worship ;  theology 
rationalizes  and  defines  the  characteristics  of  the  Object  of  worship. 
As  reason  seeks  to  interpret  feeling,  so  theology  interprets  religion. 
It  makes  explicit  what  is  implicit  in  religion.  ‘  As  the  intellect  is 
cultivated  and  expanded,  it  cannot  refrain  from  the  attempt  to 
analyze  the  vision  which  influences  the  heart,  and  the  object  in 
which  it  centres ;  nor  does  it  stop  till  it  has,  in  some  sort,  suc¬ 
ceeded  in  expressing  in  words,  what  has  all  along  been  a  principle 
both  of  the  affections  and  of  practical  obedience.’ 1  It  takes  the 
facts  which  the  religious  consciousness  has  seized,  seeks  to  bring 
them  into  distinctness  before  the  mental  vision,  to  connect  them 
with  one  another  in  a  coherent  system,  and  find  in  them  the  explan¬ 
ation  and  unity  of  all  that  is.  Christian  theology  grows  naturally 
out  of  the  Christian  religion.  But  religion  is  a  divine  life ;  theol¬ 
ogy  a  divine  science. 

This  explains  the  fact  that  though  both  religion  and  theology 
have  to  do  with  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  ideally  work  in  per¬ 
fect  harmony,  yet  they  are  often  found  opposed.  Theology  is 
always  in  danger  of  becoming  unreal.  What  is  an  interpretation 
for  one  age  becomes  a  tongue  not  understanded  ’  in  the  next. 
Hence  when  a  revival  of  religious  life  comes,  it  frequently  shows 
itself  in  an  attack  on  the  received  theology.  Theology  is  no 
longer  regarded  as  the  scientific  expression  of  the  very  truths 
which  religion  values ;  it  is  conceived  of  as  the  antithesis  of 
religion,  and  reformers  dream  of  a  new  theology  which  shall  be 
for  them  what,  though  they  know  it  not,  the  old  theology  was  to 
their  predecessors,  the  handmaid  and  guardian  of  religious  truth. 
When  Martin  Luther  said  that  ‘  an  old  woman  who  reads  her  Bible 
in  the  chimney-corner  knows  more  about  God  than  the  great 
doctors  of  theology,’  he  was  emphasizing  the  severance  which  in 
his  day  had  come  to  exist  between  a  religious  life  and  theological 
orthodoxy.  And  when  in  his  ‘  Table  Talk  ’  he  says,  ‘  A  jurist  may 
be  a  rogue,  but  a  theologian  must  be  a  man  of  piety,’  he  touches 
a  real  truth.  A  hundred  years  later,  amid  the  confusions  and 
unrealities  of  the  seventeenth  century,  John  Smith,2  the  Cambridge 
Platonist,  said  the  same.  ‘  They  are  not  always  the  best  skilled  in 
divinity,’  he  says,  ‘  that  are  most  studied  in  those  pandects  into 
which  it  is  sometimes  digested.’  ‘  Were  I  to  define  divinity,  I 
should  rather  call  it  a  divine  life  than  a  divine  science .’  Techni- 

1  Newman’s  Arians,  ch.  ii.  §  i. 

2  Natural  Truth  of  Christianity,  §§  i,  2. 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrhie  of  God. 


73 


cally,  no  doubt,  he  was  wrong,  for  theology  is  a  science,  and  not  a 
life  ;  but,  like  Luther,  he  was  vindicating  the  truth  that  it  is  possible 
for  quite  simple  people  to  know  God,  though  they  have  no  knowl¬ 
edge  of  theology,  and  that  theology,  when  it  becomes  speculative 
and  abstract,  ceases  to  be  theology.  A  theologian,  as  Mazzini  says 
of  an  artist,  ‘  must  be  a  high-priest  or  a  charlatan.’ 

But  the  world  dislikes  a  high-priest,  and  good  people  dislike  a 
charlatan.  And  the  consequence  is  that  theology,  ancient  or  mod¬ 
ern,  is  attacked  from  two  very  different  points  of  view,  by  those 
who  look  upon  it  as  the  antithesis  of  ‘the  simple  Gospel,’  and 
by  those  who  approach  it  from  the  side  of  speculative  thought. 
Theology  claims  to  be  a  divine  science.  Religious  people  attack 
it  because  it  is  a  science ;  philosophers  because  it  claims  to  be 
divine.  To  the  former,  religion  expressed  in  rational  terms  ceases 
to  be  religion ;  to  the  latter,  that  science  is  no  science  which 
claims  for  itself  unique  conditions.  Yet  St.  Paul  seems  to  recognize 
both  the  necessity  and  the  uniqueness  of  theology  when  he  says 
to  the  Greeks  of  Corinth,  ‘  We  received  not  the  spirit  of  the 
world,  but  the  spirit  which  is  of  God,  that  we  might  know  the 
things  that  are  freely  given  us  by  God.’ 

It  is  the  relation  of  Christian  theology  to  philosophy  and  science 
with  which  we  are  specially  concerned.  But  it  is  impossible  to 
pass  by  the  objection  to  theology  which  comes  as  it  were  ab  intra 
from  the  side  of  religion.  For  if  it  is  valid,  then  Christianity  may 
as  well  give  up  at  once  any  idea  of  being  the  religion  of  man. 
Yet  people  say,  ‘Why  have  a  theology?  Human  reason  cannot 
search  out  “the  deep  things  of  God  ;  ”  it  will  only  put  new  difficul¬ 
ties  in  a  brother’s  way  :  why  not  rest  content  with  the  words  of 
Holy  Scripture,  with  simple  truths  like  “  God  is  love,”  and  simple 
duties  like  “  Love  one  another,”  and  leave  theology  alone?’  Now, 
without  denying  what  George  Eliot  calls  ‘  the  right  of  the  indi¬ 
vidual  to  general  haziness,’  or  asserting  that  every  Christian  must 
be  a  theologian,  we  may  surely  say  that  Christianity  is  bound  to 
have  a  theology.  And  even  individual  Christians,  if  they  ever 
grow  into  the  manhood  of  reason,  must  have  a  theology  or  cease 
to  be  religious.  The  protest  against  theology  from  the  side  of 
religion  looks  modest  and  charitable  enough  till  we  remember  that 
religious  haziness  is  generally,  if  not  always,  the  outcome  of  moral 
laziness  ;  that  it  implies  the  neglect  of  a  duty  and  the  neglect  of  a 
gift,  —  the  duty  of  realizing  to  the  reason  the  revelation  of  Christ, 
and  the  gift  of  the  Spirit  of  Truth  to  enable  us  to  do  it.  More 
than  this,  the  protest  against  theology  in  the  interests  of  religion  is 
irrational  and  suicidal.  To  tell  a  thinking  man  that  he  need  not 


74 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


interpret  to  his  reason  what  religion  tells  him  of  God,  is  like  saying 
to  him,  ‘  Be  religious  if  you  will,  but  you  need  not  let  your  re¬ 
ligion  influence  your  conduct.’  If  Christianity  had  been  content 
to  be  a  moral  religion,  if  it  had  abandoned  its  claim  to  rationality 
and  had  left  Greek  speculation  alone,  it  must  have  accepted  either 
the  Gnostic  division  of  territory,  or  recognized  an  internecine 
conflict  between  religion  and  philosophy.  And  it  did  neither ;  but, 
under  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit  of  Truth,  Christian  theology  arose 
and  claimed  the  reason  of  the  ancient  world. 

Thus  as  the  religion  of  the  Old  Testament  claims  morality  for 
God,  so  Christianity  goes  farther  and  claims  to  hold  the  key  to  the 
intellectual  problems  of  the  world.  So  far  as  the  nature  of  God  is 
concerned,  Christianity  met  the  intellectual  difficulties  of  the  first 
centuries  by  the  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity. 

From  time  to  time  people  make  the  discovery  that  the  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity  is  older  than  Christianity.  If  the  discoverer  is  a 
Christian  apologist,  he  usually  explains  that  God  has  given  antici¬ 
patory  revelations  to  men  of  old,  and  points  out  how  they  fall 
short  of  the  revelation  of  Christianity.  If  he  is  an  opponent  of 
Christianity,  he  triumphantly  claims  to  have  unmasked  the  doctrine 
and  tracked  it  down  to  a  purely  natural  origin.  ‘People  think,’ 
says  Hegel,  ‘  that  by  pronouncing  a  doctrine  to  be  Neo-Platonic, 
they  have  ipso  facto  banished  it  from  Christianity.’ 1  Men  have 
found  the  doctrine,  or  something  like  it,  not  only  in  the  Old  Tes¬ 
tament,  but  in  Plato  and  Neo-Platonism,  and  among  the  Ophite 
Gnostics,  in  the  Chinese  Tao-TGChing  and  the  J  Three  Holy 
Ones  ’  of  Bouddhism,  in  the  Tri-murti  of  Hinduism,  and  else¬ 
where.  Why  not  ?  Revelation  never  advances  for  itself  the  claim 
which  its  apologists  sometimes  make  for  it,  —  the  claim  to  be  some¬ 
thing  absolutely  new.  A  truth  revealed  by  God  is  never  a  truth  out 
of  relation  with  previous  thought.  He  leads  men  to  feel  their 
moral  and  intellectual  needs  before  He  satisfies  either.  There 
was  a  preparation  for  Hebrew  monotheism,  as  there  was  a  prepara¬ 
tion  for  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  There  was  an  intellectual  prepara¬ 
tion  for  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  as  there  was  a  moral  preparation 
for  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation.  If  the  Christian  doctrine  of 
the  Incarnation  is  distinguished  from  the  avatars  of  Hinduism, 
and  the  incarnations  of  Thibetan  Lamaism,  by  its  regenerative  moral 
force,  the  Christian  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  is  no  less  distinguished 
from  the  pseudo-trinities  of  Neo-Platonism  and  its  modern  devel¬ 
opments  by  the  fact  that  for  eighteen  centuries  it  has  been  the 


1  Phil,  of  Hist.,  p.  343,  Eng.  tr. 


II.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God.  75 

safeguard  of  a  pure  Monotheism  against  everything  which  menaces 
the  life  of  religion. 

But  Christian  theology  is  not  “a  philosophy  without  assump¬ 
tions.”  It  does  not  attempt  to  prove  sola  ratione  the  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity,  but  to  show  how  that  which  reason  demands  is  met 
and  satisfied  by  the  Christian  doctrine  of  God.  Starting  with  the 
inheritance  of  faith,  the  belief  in  the  Divinity  of  Christ,  and  trust¬ 
ing  in  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit  of  Truth,  it  throws  itself  boldly 
into  the  rational  problem,  fights  its  way  through  every  form  of 
Unitarianism,  and  interprets  its  faith  to  itself  and  to  the  world 
at  large  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Triune  God.  Its  charter  is  the 
formula  of  Baptism,  where  the  “treasures  of  immediate  faith  are 
gathered  up  into  a  sentence,  though  not  yet  formulated  into  a 
doctrine.”  1 

To  the  Greek  mind  two  things  had  become  clear  before  Chris¬ 
tianity  came  into  the  world,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  trace  the 
steps  by  which  the  conclusions  were  reached.  First,  Reason,  as 
relation-giving,  seeks  for  unity  in  the  manifoldness  of  which  it  is 
conscious,  and  will  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less.  But  Eleaticism 
had  convincingly  proved  that  an  abstract  unity  can  explain  noth¬ 
ing.  Quite  apart  from  questions  of  religion  and  morals,  the 
Eleatic  unity  was  metaphysically  a  failure.  Plato  had  seen  this, 
and  yet  the  ‘  dead  hand  ’  of  Eleaticism  rested  on  Platonism,  and 
the  dialogue  Parmenides  showed  how  powerless  the  Doctrine  of 
Ideas  was  to  evade  the  difficulty.  Thus  the  Greeks  more  than 
2000  years  ago  had  realized,  what  is  nowadays  proclaimed  as  if 
it  were  a  new  discovery,  that  an  absolute  unit  is  unthinkable, 
because,  as  Plato  puts  it  in  the  Philebus,  the  union  of  the  one  and 
the  many  is  ‘  an  everlasting  quality  in  thought  itself  which  never 
grows  old  in  us.’  The  Greeks,  like  the  Jews,  had  thus  had  their 
‘  schoolmaster  to  bring  them  to  Christ.’  They  had  not  solved, 
but  they  had  felt,  the  rational  difficulty;  as  the  Jews  had  felt,  but 
had  not  overcome,  except  through  the  Messianic  hope,  the  separ¬ 
ation  of  man  from  God.  But  as  the  Trinitarian  doctrine  took 
shape,  Christian  teachers  realized  how  the  Christian,  as  opposed 
to  the  Jewish,  idea  of  God,  not  only  held  the  truth  of  the  Divine 
Unity  as  against  all  polytheistic  religions,  but  claimed  reason  on 
its  side  against  all  Unitarian  theories.  They  did  not,  however, 
argue  that  it  was  true  because  it  satisfied  reason,  but  that  it 
satisfied  reason  because  it  was  true. 

They  started,  indeed,  not  with  a  metaphysical  problem  to  be 


1  Dorner,  Hist,  of  Doct.,  i.  362,  etc. 


76 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


solved,  but  with  a  historical  fact  to  proclaim,  the  fact  of  the 
Resurrection,  and  a  doctrinal  truth  to  maintain,  the  Divinity  of 
Him  who  rose.  And  starting  from  that  basis  of  fact  revealed  in 
Christ,  they  found  themselves  in  possession  of  an  answer  to  diffi¬ 
culties  which  at  first  they  had  not  felt,  and  thus  their  belief  was 
justified  and  verified  in  the  speculative  region. 

The  truth  for  which  they  contended,  which  was  enshrined  in 
their  sacred  writings,  was  that  ‘  the  Father  is  God,  the  Son  is  God, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost  is  God.  And  yet  they  are  not  three  Gods, 
but  one  God.’  But  the  Fathers  do  not  treat  this  doctrine  merely 
as  a  revealed  mystery,  still  less  as  something  which  complicates  the 
simple  teaching  of  Monotheism,  but  as  the  condition  of  rationally 
holding  the  Unity  of  God.  ‘  The  Unity  which  derives  the  Trinity 
out  of  its  own  self,’  says  Tertullian,  ‘  so  far  from  being  destroyed, 
is  actually  supported  by  it.’1  ‘We  cannot  otherwise  think  of 
One  God,’  says  Hippolytus,  ‘  but  by  truly  believing  in  Father,  and 
Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.’ 2  ‘The  supreme  and  only  God,’  says  Lac- 
tantius,  ‘  cannot  be  worshipped  except  through  the  Son.  He  who 
thinks  that  he  worships  the  Father  only,  in  that  he  does  not  wor¬ 
ship  the  Son  also,  does  not  worship  the  Father.’ 3  ‘  Without  the 

Son  the  Father  is  not,’  says  Clement  of  Alexandria,  ‘for  in  that 
He  is  a  Father  He  is  the  Father  of  the  Son,  and  the  Son  is  the 
true  teacher  about  the  Father.’ 4  So  Origen  argues  :  If  God  had 
ever  existed  alone  in  simple  unity  and  solitary  grandeur,  apart  from 
some  object  upon  which  from  all  eternity  to  pour  forth  His  love, 
He  could  not  have  been  always  God.  His  love,  His  Father¬ 
hood,  His  very  omnipotence  would  have  been  added  in  time, 
and  there  would  then  have  been  a  time  when  He  was  imperfect. 

‘  The  Fatherhood  of  God  must  be  coeval  with  His  omnipotence  ; 
for  it  is  through  the  Son  that  the  Father  is  Almighty.’ 5  This 
was  the  line  of  argument  afterwards  developed  by  St.  Athana¬ 
sius  when  he  contended  against  the  Arians,  that  the  Son  was  the 
reality  or  truth  6  of  the  Father,  without  whom  the  Father  could  not 
exist ;  and  by  St.  Augustine,  when  he  argues  that  love  implies  one 
who  loves  and  one  who  is  loved,  and  love  to  bind  them  together.7 
Even  one  so  unphilosophically  minded  as  Irenseus8  cannot  but 
see  in  the  Christian  doctrine  of  the  relation  of  the  Father  and  the 
Son  the  solution  of  the  difficulty  about  the  infinity  of  God :  ‘  Jm- 
mensus  Pater  in  Filio  mensuratus ;  mensura  Patris  Filius.’  While 


1  Adv.  Prax.,  ch.  iii. 

2  Cent.  Noet.,  §  xiv. 

3  Inst.,  iv.  c.  29. 

4  Strom.,  v.  1. 


5  De  Princ.,  I.  ii.  §  10. 

6  Adv.  Arianos,  i.  §  20. 

7  De  Trin.,  viii.  io,  and  ix.  2. 

8  Iren.,  Adv.  Haer.,  IV.  iv.  1,  2. 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God . 


11 


philosophy,  with  increasing  hopelessness,  was  asking,  How  can  we 
have  a  real  unity  which  shall  be  not  a  barren  and  dead  unity,  but 
shall  include  differences?  Christianity,  with  its  doctrine  of  God, 
was  arguing  that  that  which  was  an  unsolved  contradiction  for 
non-Christian  thought,  was  a  necessary  corollary  of  the  Christian 
Faith.1 

The  other  truth  which  Greek  thought  had  realized  was  the 
immanence  of  reason  in  nature  and  in  man.  When  Anaxagoras 
first  declared  that  the  universe  was  the  work  of  intelligence,  we  are 
told  that  he  seemed  ‘  like  a  sober  man  among  random  talkers.’ 
But  both  Plato  and  Aristotle  accuse  him  of  losing  the  truth  which 
he  had  gained,  because  he  made  intelligence  appear  only  on  occa¬ 
sions  in  the  world,  dragged  in,  like  a  stage-god,  when  naturalistic 
explanations  failed.2  The  conception  of  creation  out  of  nothing 
was  of  course  unknown  to  Anaxagoras.  Intelligence  is  only  the 
arranger  of  materials  already  given  in  a  chaotic  condition.  With 
Aristotle,  too,  it  is  reason  which  makes  everything  what  it  is.  But 
the  reason  is  in  things,  not  outside  them.  Nature  is  rational  from 
end  to  end.  In  spite  of  failures  and  mistakes,  due  to  her  mate¬ 
rials,  nature  does  the  best  she  can  and  always  aims  at  a  good  end.3 
She  works  like  an  artist  with  an  ideal  in  view.4  Only  there  is  this 
marked  difference  :  Nature  has  the  principle  of  growth  within 
herself,  while  the  artist  is  external  to  his  materials.5  Here  we  have 
a  clear  and  consistent  statement  of  the  doctrine  of  immanent 
reason  as  against  the  Anaxagorean  doctrine  of  a  transcendent 
intelligence.  If  we  translate  both  into  the  theological  language  of 
our  own  day,  we  should  call  the  latter  the  deistic,  the  former  the 
pantheistic,  view ;  or,  adopting  a  distinction  of  supreme  impor¬ 
tance  in  the  history  of  science,  we  might  say  that  we  have  here, 
face  to  face,  the  mechanical  and  the  organic  view  of  nature.  Both 
were  teleological ;  but  to  the  one  reason  was  an  extra-mundane 
cause,  to  the  other  an  internal  principle.  It  was  the  contrast 
between  external  and  inner  design,  as  we  know  it  in  Kant  and 
Hegel ;  between  the  teleology  of  Paley  and  the  ‘  wider  teleology  ’ 
of  Darwin,  and  Huxley,  and  Fiske  ;  between  the  transcendent  and 
immanent  views  of  God,  when  so  held  as  to  be  mutually  exclusive. 

It  is  these  two  one-sided  views  which  the  Christian  doctrine 
of  God  brings  together.  Religion  demands  as  the  very  condition 
of  its  existence  a  God  who  transcends  the  universe  ;  philosophy 
as  imperiously  requires  His  immanence  in  nature.  If  either 

1  Cf.  pp.  278-281.  2  Plat.,  Phaed.,  98  B. ;  Arist.,  Met.  A.,  4. 

3  P.  455bi7.  The  references  are  to  the  Berlin  edition. 

4  P.  i99a8,  18;  41 5bl 7  ;  73I&24-  5  P-  io7oa7,  io33>>8,  753*3. 


78  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

Religion  denies  God’s  immanence,  or  Philosophy  denies  that  He 
transcends  the  universe,  there  is  an  absolute  antagonism  between 
the  two  which  can  only  be  ended  by  the  abandonment  of  one  or 
the  other.  But  what  we  find  is,  that  though  Philosophy  (meaning 
by  that  the  exercise  of  the  speculative  reason  in  abstraction  from 
morals,  and  religion),  the  more  fully  it  realizes  the  immanence  of 
God,  the  more  it  tends  to  deny  the  transcendence,  religion  not 
only  has  no  quarrel  with  the  doctrine  of  immanence,  but  the 
higher  the  religion,  the  more  unreservedly  it  asserts  this  immanence 
as  a  truth  dear  to  religion  itself.  The  religious  equivalent  lor 
‘  immanence  ’  is  ‘  omnipresence/  and  the  omnipresence  of  God  is 
a  corollary  of  a  true  monotheism.  As  long  as  any  remains  of 
dualism  exist,  there  is  a  region,  however  small,  impervious  to  the 
Divine  power.  But  the  Old  Testament  doctrine  of  creation,  by 
excluding  dualism,  implies  from  the  first,  if  it  does  not  teach,  the 
omnipresence  of  God.  For  the  omnipotence  of  God  underlies 
the  doctrine  of  creation,  and  omnipotence  involves  omnipresence. 
Hence  we  find  the  Psalmists  and  Prophets  ascribing  natural 
processes  immediately  to  God.  They  know  nothing  of  second 
causes.  The  main  outlines  of  natural  science,  the  facts  of  genera¬ 
tion  and  growth,  are  familiar  enough  to  them,  yet  every  fact  is 
ascribed  immediately  to  the  action  of  God.  He  makes  the  grass 
to  grow  upon  the  mountains ;  He  fashions  the  child  in  the  womb ; 
He  feeds  the  young  ravens ;  He  provides  fodder  for  the  cattle ; 
He  gives  to  all  their  meat  in  due  season;  when  He  lets  His 
breath  go  forth,  they  are  made ;  when  He  takes  away  their  breath, 
they  die  and  return  to  dust. 

I  his  doctrine  of  the  omnipresence  of  God,  as  conceived  by 
religion,  had  however  yet  to  be  fused  with  the  philosophical  doc¬ 
trine  of  immanence.  And  here  again  the  fusion  was  effected  by 
the  Christian  doctrine  of  God,  as  Trinity  in  Unity.  The  earlier 
Apologists  concern  themselves  first  with  the  vindication  of  the 
Divine  attributes,  —  God’s  separateness  from  the  world  as  against 
Greek  Pantheism,  His  omnipresence  in  it  as  against  a  Judaizing 
deism.  But  the  union  of  God’s  transcendence  with  His  imma¬ 
nence,  and  with  it  the  fusion  of  the  religious  with  the  philo¬ 
sophic  idea  of  God,  is  only  consciously  completed  by  the  Doctrine 
of  the  Trinity.1  The  dying  words  of  Plotinus,  expressing  as  they 
did  the  problem  of  his  life,  are  said  to  have  been  :  i  I  am 
striving  to  bring  the  God  which  is  within  into  harmony  with  the 
God  which  is  in  the  universe.’  And  the  unsolved  problem  of 


1  Dorner,  Hist,  of  Doct.,  i.  366. 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God.  79 

Neo-Platonism,  which  is  also  the  unsolved  problem  of  non-Chris¬ 
tian  philosophy  in  our  day,  is  met  by  the  Christian  doctrine  of 
God.  All  and  more  than  all  that  philosophy  and  science  can 
demand,  as  to  the  immanence  of  reason  in  the  universe,  and  the 
rational  coherence  of  all  its  parts,  is  included  in  the  Christian 
teaching  :  nothing  which  religion  requires  as  to  God’s  separateness 
from  the  world,  which  He  has  made,  is  left  unsatisfied.  The  old 
familiar  Greek  term  AOF02  which,  from  the  days  of  Heracleitus, 
had  meant  to  the  Greek  the  rational  unity  and  balance  of  the 
world,  is  taken  up  by  St.  John,  by  St.  Clement,  by  St.  Athanasius, 
and  given  a  meaning  which  those  who  started  from  the  Philonian 
position  never  reached.  It  is  the  personal  Word,  God  of  God, 
the  Only  Begotten  of  the  Father,  who  is  one  in  the  Holy  Spirit 
with  the  Father.  ‘The  Word  was  God.’  ‘By  Him  all  things 
were  made.’  ‘  He  the  All-powerful,  All-holy  Word  of  the  Father 
spreads  His  power  over  all  things  everywhere,  enlightening  things 
seen  and  unseen,  holding  and  binding  all  together  in  Himself. 
Nothing  is  left  empty  of  His  presence,  but  to  all  things  and 
through  all,  severally  and  collectively,  He  is  the  giver  and  sus- 
tainer  of  life.  .  .  .  He,  the  Wisdom  of  God,  holds  the  universe 
like  a  lute,  and  keeps  all  things  in  earth  and  air  and  heaven  in 
tune  together.  He  it  is  Who  binding  all  with  each,  and  ordering 
all  things  by  His  will  and  pleasure,  produces  the  perfect  unity  of 
nature,  and  the  harmonious  reign  of  law.  While  He  abides  un¬ 
moved  forever  with  the  Father,  He  yet  moves  all  things  by  His 
own  appointment  according  to  the  Father’s  will.’ 1  The  unity  of 
nature  is,  thus,  no  longer  the  abstract  motionless  simplicity  of 
Being,  which  had  been  so  powerless  to  explain  the  metaphysical 
problems  of  Greece.  It  is  the  living  Omnipresent  Word,  co¬ 
eternal  and  consubstantial  with  the  Father,  and  the  philosophical 
truth  becomes  an  integral  part  of  that  Christian  doctrine  of  God, 
which,  while  it  safeguarded  religion  and  satisfied  reason,  had  won 
its  first  and  greatest  victories  in  the  field  of  morals. 

VII.  The  Christian  doctrine  of  God  triumphed  over  heathen 
morality  and  heathen  speculation  neither  by  unreasoning  protest 
nor  by  unreal  compromise,  but  by  taking  up  into  itself  all  that  was 
highest  and  truest  in  both.  Why  then  is  this  Christian  idea  of 
God  challenged  in  our  day?  Have  we  outgrown  the  Christian 
idea  of  God,  so  that  it  cannot  claim  and  absorb  the  new  truths  of 
our  scientific  age?  If  not,  with  the  lessons  of  the  past  in  our 
mind,  we  may  confidently  ask,  —  What  fuller  unfolding  of  the 


1  St.  Athan.,  Contra  Gentes,  §  42. 


So  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

revelation  of  Himself  has  God  in  store  for  us,  to  be  won,  as  in  the 
past,  through  struggle  and  seeming  antagonism  ? 

The  fact  that  the  Christian  Theology  is  now  openly  challenged 
by  reason  is  obvious  enough.  It  almost  seems  as  if,  in  our  intel¬ 
lectual  life,  we  were  passing  through  a  transition  analogous  to  that 
which,  in  the  moral  region,  issued  in  the  Reformation.  Even 
amongst  those  who  believe  that  Christian  morality  is  true,  there 
are  to  be  found  those  who  have  convinced  themselves  that  we 
have  intellectually  outgrown  the  Christian  Faith.  ‘The  only  God/ 
we  have  been  told  lately,1 2  ‘  whom  Western  Europeans,  with  a 
Christian  ancestry  of  a  thousand  years  behind  them,  can  worship, 
is  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob;  or  rather,  of  St.  Paul, 
St.  Augustine,  and  St.  Bernard,  and  of  the  innumerable  <£  blessed 
saints,”  canonized  or  not,  who  peopled  the  ages  of  Faith.  No 
one  wants,  no  one  can  care  for,  an  abstract  God,  an  Unknowable, 
an  Absolute,  with  whom  we  stand  in  no  human  or  intelligible 
relation.’  ‘  God,  as  God,’  says  Feuerbach,2  1  the  infinite,  universal, 
non-anthropomorphic  being  of  the  understanding,  has  no  more 
significance  in  religion  than  a  fundamental  general  principle  has 
for  a  special  science  ;  it  is  merely  the  ultimate  point  of  support, 
as  it  were,  the  mathematical  point  of  religion.’  Yet  it  is  assumed 
that  this  is  all  that  remains  to  us,  and  we  are  left  in  the  following 
dilemma :  ‘  An  anthropomorphic  God  is  the  only  God  whom 
men  can  worship,  and  also  the  God  whom  modern  thought  finds  it 
increasingly  difficult  to  believe  in.’ 3 

In  such  a  state  of  things  it  is  natural  that  men  should  turn  to 
pantheism  as  a  sort  of  middle  term  between  religion  and  phi¬ 
losophy,  and  even  claim,  for  the  unity  of  the  world,  the  venerable 
name  and  associations  of  God.  But  the  remarkable  thing  is  that 
in  the  numberless  attempts  to  attack,  or  defend,  or  find  a  substi¬ 
tute  for  Theism,  the  Christian,  or  Trinitarian,  teaching  about  God 
rarely  appears  upon  the  scene.  Devout  Christians  have  come  to 
think  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  if  not  exactly  as  a  distinct 
revelation,  yet  as  a  doctrine  necessary  for  holding  the  divinity  of 
Christ  without  sacrificing  the  unity  of  God.  Ordinary  people 
take  it  for  granted  that  Trinitarianism  is  a  sort  of  extra  demand 
made  on  Christian  faith,  and  that  the  battle  must  really  be  fought 
out  on  the  Unitarian  basis.  If  Unitarian  theism  can  be  defended, 
it  will  then  be  possible  to  go  farther  and  accept  the  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity.  It  is  natural  that  when  Christians  take  this  ground, 

1  Morison,  Service  of  Man,  p.  48. 

2  Quoted  by  W  S.  Lilly,  Nineteenth  Century,  Aug.,  1SS8,  p.  292. 

3  Morison,  Service  of  Man,  p.  49. 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God. 


8 1 


those  who  have  ceased  to  be  Christian  suppose  that,  though  Chris¬ 
tianity  is  no  longer  tenable,  they  may  still  cling  to  4  Theism,’  and 
even  perhaps,  under  cover  of  that  nebulous  term,  make  an  alliance 
not  only  with  Jews  and  Mahommedans,  but  with  at  least  the  more 
religious  representatives  of  pantheism.  It  is  only  our  languid 
interest  in  speculation  or  a  Philistine  dislike  of  metaphysics,  that 
makes  such  an  unintelligent  view  possible.  Unitarianism  said  its 
last  word  in  the  pre-Christian  and  early  Christian  period,  and  it 
failed,  as  it  fails  now,  to  save  religion  except  at  the  cost  of  reason. 
So  far  from  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  being,  in  Mr.  Gladstone’s 
unfortunate  phrase,  ‘  the  scaffolding  of  a  purer  theism,’  non-Chris¬ 
tian  monotheism  was  the  4  scaffolding  ’  through  which  already  the 
outlines  of  the  future  building  might  be  seen.  For  the  modern 
world,  the  Christian  doctrine  of  God  remains  as  the  only  safeguard 
in  reason  for  a  permanent  theistic  belief.1 

It  is  not  difficult  to  see  how  it  is  that  this  truth  is  not  more 
generally  recognized.  The  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  by  which  the 
Christian  idea  of  God  absorbed  Greek  speculation  into  itself,  had 
but  little  point  Tappui  in  the  unmetaphysical  western  world.  It 
bore  the  imprimatur  of  the  Church  ;  it  was  easily  deducible  from 
the  words  of  Holy  Scripture  ;  it  was  seen  to  be  essential  to  the 
holding  of  the  divinity  of  Christ.  But  men  forgot  that  the  doc¬ 
trine  was  k  addressed  to  the  reason ;  ’ 2  and  so  its  metaphysical 
meaning  and  value  were  gradually  lost  sight  of.  In  the  days  of 
the  mediaeval  Papacy,  ecclesiastical  were  more  effective  than 
metaphysical  weapons,  and  Scholasticism  knew  so  much  about  the 
deepest  mysteries  of  God  that  it  almost  provoked  an  agnostic 
reaction,  in  the  interests  of  reverence  and  intellectual  modesty. 
With  the  Reformation  came  the  appeal  to  the  letter  of  Holy 
Scripture,  and  the  age  of  biblical,  as  contrasted  with  scientific, 
theology.  The  only  scientific  theology  of  the  Reformation  period 

1  It  is  far  from  our  purpose  to  undervalue  the  work  of  Dr.  Martineau. 
No  more  earnest  and  vigorous,  and  so  far  as  it  goes,  no  truer  defence  of 
religion  has  been  published  in  our  day.  But  his  strength  lies  mainly  in  his 
protest  against  what  destrovs  religion,  and  in  his  uncompromising  assertion 
of  what  religion,  as  a  condition  of  its  existence,  demands.  lie  has  done 
little  to  show  us  how  these  demands  can  be  rationally  satisfied,  how  the 
personal  God,  which  religion  demands,  is  even  an  intelligible  idea.  He 
wavers  between  a  view  which  logically  developed  must  result  in  pantheism, 
and  a  view  implying  a  distinction  in  the  Divine  nature,  which  carries  him 
far  in  the  Trinitarian  direction.  More  often  he  contents  himself  with  leav¬ 
ing  the  speculative  question  alone,  or  storming  the  rational  position  by  the 
forces  of  religion  and  morals.  See  A  Study  of  Religion,  vol.  ii.  p.  145,  com¬ 
pared  with  p.  192. 

2  Newman’s  Arians,  p.  84. 


6 


82 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


was  the  awful  and  immoral  system  of  John  Calvin,  rigorously 
deduced  from  a  one-sided  truth. 

Then  came  the  age  of  physical  science.  The  break-up  of  the 
mediaeval  system  of  thought  and  life  resulted  in  an  atomism,  which, 
if  it  had  been  more  perfectly  consistent  with  itself,  would  have 
been  fatal  alike  to  knowledge  and  society.  Translated  into  science 
it  appeared  as  mechanism  in  the  Baconian  and  Cartesian  physics  ; 
translated  into  politics  it  appeared  as  rampant  individualism, 
though  combined  by  Hobbes  with  Stuart  absolutism.  Its  theory 
of  knowledge  was  a  crude  empiricism  ;  its  theology  unrelieved 
deism.  God  was  ‘  throned  in  magnificent  inactivity  in  a  remote 
corner  of  the  universe,’  and  a  machinery  of  ‘  second  causes’  had 
practically  taken  His  place.  It  was  even  doubted,  in  the  deistic 
age,  whether  God’s  delegation  of  His  power  was  not  so  absolute 
as  to  make  it  impossible  for  Him  to  ‘  interfere  ’  with  the  laws  of 
nature.  The  question  of  miracles  became  the  burning  question 
of  the  day,  and  the  very  existence  of  God  was  staked  on  His 
power  to  interrupt  or  override  the  laws  of  the  universe.  Mean¬ 
while  His  immanence  in  nature,  the  ‘higher  pantheism,’  which  is 
a  truth  essential  to  true  religion,  as  it  is  to  true  philosophy,  fell 
into  the  background. 

Slowly  but  surely  that  theory  of  the  world  has  been  undermined. 
The  one  absolutely  impossible  conception  of  God,  in  the  present 
day,  is  that  which  represents  Him  as  an  occasional  Visitor.  Science 
had  pushed  the  deist’s  God  farther  and  farther  away,  and  at  the 
moment  when  it  seemed  as  if  He  would  be  thrust  out  altogether, 
Darwinism  appeared,  and,  under  the  disguise  of  a  foe,  did  the 
work  of  a  friend.  It  has  conferred  upon  philosophy  and  religion 
an  inestimable  benefit,  by  showing  us  that  we  must  choose  between 
two  alternatives.  Either  God  is  everywhere  present  in  nature,  or 
He  is  nowhere.  He  cannot  be  here,  and  not  there.  He  cannot 
delegate  His  power  to  demigods  called  ‘  second  causes.’ 1  In 
nature  everything  must  be  His  work  or  nothing.  We  must  frankly 
return  to  the  Christian  view  of  direct  Divine  agency,  the  imma¬ 
nence  of  Divine  power  in  nature  from  end  to  end,  the  belief  in 
a  God  in  Whom  not  only  we,  but  all  things  have  their  being,  or 
we  must  banish  Him  altogether.  It  seems  as  if,  in  the  providence 
of  God,  the  mission  of  modern  science  was  to  bring  home  to  our 
unmetaphysical  ways  of  thinking  the  great  truth  of  the  Divine 
immanence  in  creation,  which  is  not  less  essential  to  the  Christian 
idea  of  God  than  to  a  philosophical  view  of  nature.  And  it  comes 

1  Cf.  Fiske,  Idea  of  God,  pp.  103,  104;  Martineau,  A  Study  of  Religion, 
ii.  172,  173. 


II.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God.  83 

to  us  almost  like  a  new  truth,  which  we  cannot  at  once  fit  in  with 
the  old. 

Yet  the  conviction  that  the  Divine  immanence  must  be  for  our 
age,  as  for  the  Athanasian  age,  the  meeting-point  of  the  religious 
and  philosophic  view  of  God  is  showing  itself  in  the  most  thought¬ 
ful  minds  on  both  sides.  Our  modes  of  thought  are  becoming 
increasingly  Greek,  and  the  flood,  which  in  our  day  is  surging  up 
against  the  traditional  Christian  view  of  God,  is  prevailingly  pan¬ 
theistic  in  tone.  The  pantheism  is  not  less  pronounced  because 
it  comes  as  the  last  word  of  a  science  of  nature,  for  the  wall  which 
once  separated  physics  from  metaphysics  has  given  away,  and 
positivism,  when  it  is  not  the  paralysis  of  reason,  is  but  a  tem¬ 
porary  resting-place,  preparatory  to  a  new  departure.  We  are  not 
surprised  then  that  one  who,  like  Professor  Fiske,  holds  that  ‘  the 
infinite  and  eternal  Power  that  is  manifested  in  every  pulsation  of 
the  universe  is  none  other  than  the  living  God,’  and  who  vindi¬ 
cates  the  belief  in  a  final  cause  because  he  cannot  believe  that  ‘  the 
Sustainer  of  the  universe  will  put  us  to  permanent  intellectual  con¬ 
fusion,’  should  instinctively  feel  his  kinship  with  Athanasianism, 
and  vigorously  contend  against  the  view  that  any  part  of  the 
universe  is  ‘  Godless.’ 1 

Unfortunately,  however,  the  rediscovery  of  the  truth  of  God’s 
immanence  in  nature,  coming,  as  it  has  done,  from  the  side  of  a 
scientific  theory  which  was  violently  assailed  by  the  official  guar¬ 
dians  of  the  Faith,  has  resulted  for  many  in  the  throwing  aside  of 
the  counter  and  conditioning  truth,  which  saves  religion  from  pan¬ 
theism.  It  seemed  as  if  traditional  Christianity  were  bound  up  with 
the  view  that  God  is  wholly  separate  from  the  world  and  not  im¬ 
manent  in  it.  And  Professor  Fiske  has  been  misled 2  into  the 
belief  that  St.  Augustine  is  responsible  for  that  false  view.  It  is 
almost  incredible  to  any  one  who  has  read  any  of  St.  Augustine's 
writings,  that,  according  to  this  view,  he  has  to  play  the  role  of  the 
unintelligent  and  unphilosophical  deist,  who  thinks  of  God  as 
‘  a  crudely  anthropomorphic  Being,  far  removed  from  the  universe, 
and  accessible  only  through  the  mediating  offices  of  an  organized 
church.’  3  And  not  only  is  St.  Augustine  represented  as  a  deist, 
but  St.  Athanasius  is  made  a  pantheist,  and  the  supposed  conflict 
between  science  and  religion  is,  we  are  told,  really  the  conflict 
between  Athanasian  and  Augustinian  ideas  of  God.4  Yet,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  St.  Athanasius  and  St.  Augustine  both  alike  held  the 

1  Idea  of  God,  cf.  §  v.  and  pp  105-no. 

2  Apparently  by  Professor’s  Allen’s  Continuity  of  Christian  Thought. 

3  Fiske,  Idea  of  God,  p.  94.  i  Ibid.,  §  vii. 


84 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


truths  which  deism  and  pantheism  exaggerate  into  the  destruction 
of  religion.  If  St.  Athanasius  says,  ‘The  Word  of  God  is  not 
contained  by  anything,  but  Himself  contains  all  things.  .  .  .  He 
was  in  everything  and  was  outside  all  beings,  and  was  at  rest  in 
the  Father  alone  ’ 1 :  St.  Augustine  says,  ‘  The  same  God  is  wholly 
everywhere,  contained  by  no  space,  bound  by  no  bonds,  divisible 
into  no  parts,  mutable  in  no  part  of  His  being,  filling  heaven  and 
earth  by  the  presence  of  His  power.  Though  nothing  can  exist 
without  Him,  yet  nothing  is  what  He  is.’ 2 

The  Christian  doctrine  of  God,  in  Athanasian  days,  triumphed 
where  Greek  philosophy  failed.  It  accepted  the  challenge  of 
Greek  thought,  it  recognized  the  demands  of  the  speculative 
reason,  and  found  in  itself  the  answer  which,  before  the  collision 
with  Hellenism,  it  unconsciously  possessed.  It  is  challenged 
again  by  the  metaphysics  of  our  day.  We  may  be  wrong  to 
speculate  at  all  on  the  nature  of  God,  but  it  is  not  less  true  now 
than  in  the  first  centuries  of  Christianity,  that,  for  those  who  do 
speculate,  a  Unitarian,  or  Arian,  or  Sabellian  theory  is  as  impossible 
as  polytheism.  If  God  is  to  be  Personal,  as  religion  requires, 
metaphysics  demands  still  a  distinction  in  the  Unity  which  unitari- 
anism  is  compelled  to  deny.  But,  further,  the  Christian  doctrine 
of  God  is  challenged  by  the  science  of  nature.  Science,  imperi¬ 
ously  and  with  increasing  confidence,  demands  a  unity  in  nature 
which  shall  be  not  external  but  immanent,  giving  rationality  and 
coherence  to  all  that  is,  and  justifying  the  belief  in  the  universal 
reign  of  law.  But  this  immanence  of  God  in  nature  Unitarian 
theism  cannot  give,  save  at  the  price  of  losing  itself  in  pantheism. 
Deistic  it  might  be,  as  it  was  in  the  last  century ;  deistic  it  can 
be  no  longer,  unless  it  defiantly  rejects  the  truth  which  science  is 
giving  us,  and  the  claims  which  the  scientific  reason  makes. 

It  remains  then  for  Christianity  to  claim  the  new  truth  and  meet 
the  new  demands  by  a  fearless  reassertion  of  its  doctrine  of  God. 
It  has  to  bring  forth  out  of  its  treasury  things  new  and  old,  —  the 
old,  almost  forgotten  truth  of  the  immanence  of  the  Word,  the 
belief  in  God  as  ‘  creation’s  secret  force,’  illuminated  and  con¬ 
firmed  as  that  is  by  the  advance  of  science,  till  it  comes  to  us  with 
all  the  power  of  a  new  discovery.  Slowly  and  under  the  shock  of 
controversy  Christianity  is  recovering  its  buried  truths,  and  realizing 
the  greatness  of  its  rational  heritage.  It  teaches  still  that  God  is 
the  eternally  existent  One,  the  Being  on  Whom  we  depend,  and  in 

1  De  Incarn.,  c.  17. 

2  De  Civ.  Dei,  vii.  c.  xxx. ;  cf.  too  De  Gen.  ad  lit.,  iv.  c.  12;  Enchir. 
ad  Laur.,  c.  27. 


ii.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God. 


85 


Whom  we  live,  the  source  of  all  reality,  and  the  goal  to  which 
creation  moves,  the  Object  alike  of  religion  and  philosophy,  the 
eternal  Energy  of  the  natural  world,  and  the  immanent  Reason  of 
the  universe.  It  teaches  that  He  is  the  eternally  Righteous  One, 
and  therefore  the  Judge  of  all,  irrevocably  on  the  side  of  right, 
leading  the  world  by  a  progressive  preparation  for  the  revelation  of 
Himself  as  Infinite  Love  in  the  Incarnation  of  the  Word,  stimu¬ 
lating  those  desires  which  He  alone  can  satisfy,  the  yearning  of  the 
heart  for  love,  of  the  moral  nature  for  righteousness,  of  the  specu¬ 
lative  reason  for  truth.  When  men  had  wearied  themselves  in  the 
search  for  a  remedy  for  that  which  separates  men  from  God,  the 
revelation  is  given  of  Him  Who  ‘  shall  save  His  people  from  their 
sins.’  And  when  reason  had  wandered  long,  seeking  for  that 
which  should  be  Real  and  yet  One,  a  God  Who  should  satisfy  alike 
the  demands  of  religion  and  reason,  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  is 
unfolded.  It  was  the  gradual  revelation  of  God  answering  to  the 
growing  needs  and  capacity  of  man. 

VIII.  It  follows  from  the  point  of  view  adopted  in  the  foregoing 
essay  that  there  can  be  no  proofs,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  of 
the  existence  of  God.  Reason  has  for  its  subject-matter  the  pro¬ 
blem  of  essence,  not  of  existence,  the  question,  ‘  What  is  God?’ 
not  ‘  Is  there  a  God  ?  ’  Proof  can  only  mean  verification  a  posteriori 
of  a  truth  already  held.  We  approach  the  problem  with  an  un¬ 
reasoned  consciousness  of  dependence  on  a  Being  or  Beings  who 
are  to  us  invisible.  This  we  interpret  crudely,  or  leave  uninter¬ 
preted.  The  belief  may  express  itself  in  ancestor  worship,  or 
nature  worship,  or  what  not.  But  as  our  moral  and  intellectual 
nature  develops,  its  light  is  turned  back  upon  this  primitive  unde¬ 
fined  belief.  Conscience  demands  that  God  shall  be  moral ;  and 
with  the  belief  that  He  is,  there  come  confidence  and  trust,  deep¬ 
ening  into  faith  and  hope  and  love  :  the  speculative  reason  demands 
that  God  shall  be  One,  the  immanent  unity  of  all  that  is.  xAnd  the 
doctrine  of  God  which  is  best  able  to  satisfy  each  and  all  of  these 
demands  persists  as  the  permanent  truth  of  religion.  But  neither 
conscience  nor  the  speculative  reason  can  demonstrate1  God’s 
existence.  And  it  is  always  possible  for  men  to  carry  their  distrust 
of  that  which  is  instinctive  so  far  as  to  assume  that  it  is  always 
false  because  they  have  found  that  it  is  not  always  true.  Reason 
cannot  prove  existence.  The  so-called  proof  a  contingentia 
(which  underlies  H.  Spencer’s  argument  for  the  existence  of  the 

1  St.  Thos.  Aq.,  Sum.  Theol.,  I.  i.  Quaest.  2,  says  that  the  Existence  of  God 
is  demonstrable  ;  but  he  explains  that  he  does  not  mean  strict  demonstration, 
demonstratio  apodeictica ,  but  demonstratio  ab  effectibus. 


86 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


Unknowable),  is  an  appeal  to  that  very  consciousness  of  depend¬ 
ence  which  some  people  consider  a  weakness  and  a  thing  to  edu¬ 
cate  themselves  out  of.  The  appeal  to  the  consensus  gentium  can 
establish  only  the  generality,  not  the  strict  universality,  of  religion. 
It  will  always  be  possible  to  find  exceptions,  real  or  apparent,  to 
the  general  rule ;  while  as  for  what  is  known  as  the  ontological 
argument,  which  on  principles  of  reason  would  justify  the  instinc¬ 
tive  belief,  it  requires  a  metaphysical  training  to  understand  it,  or 
at  least  to  feel  its  force.  There  remain,  however,  the  two  great 
arguments  from  conscience  and  from  nature,  which  are  so  fre¬ 
quently  discussed  in  the  present  day. 

With  regard  to  the  first,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  belief  in  God 
will  in  any  age  find  its  strongest  corroboration  in  the  conscience. 
Even  in  the  mind  of  a  Felix  the  ideas  of  ‘righteousness,  temper¬ 
ance,  and  judgment  to  come  ’  had  a  strange  and  terrifying  cohe¬ 
rence.  1  here  is  that  much  of  truth  in  the  statement  that  religion 
is  founded  in  ‘  fear.’  But  the  argument  from  conscience  has  been 
weakened  by  being  overstated.  Conscience,  as  we  know  it,  has 
won,  not  indeed  its  existence,  but  the  delicacy  of  its  moral  touch, 
and  the  strength  of  its  ‘categorical  imperative,’ from  the  assured 
belief  in  a  real  relationship  between  man  and  a  holy  and  loving 
God.  When  that  belief  has  ceased  to  exist,  conscience  still  sur¬ 
vives,  and  it  is  possible  and  justifiable  to  appeal  to  it  as  a  fact 
which  can  be  explained  by  religion,  but  without  religion  must  be 
explained  away.  But  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  we  can  take 
the  untrained  and  undeveloped  conscience,  and  argue  direct  from 
it  to  a  righteous  God.  The  lumen  naturale ,  in  its  lowest  develop¬ 
ment,  gives  but  a  faint  and  flickering  gleam.  We  cannot  argue 
back  from  it  to  a  God  of  love,  or  even  a  God  of  righteousness, 
unless  we  interpret  it  in  the  fuller  light  of  the  conscience  which 
has  been  trained  and  perfected  under  the  growing  influence  of  the 
belief.  The  idea  of  ‘  duty,’  which  is  so  hard  to  explain  on  utilita¬ 
rian  grounds,  is  not  to  be  found,  as  we  know  it,  in  Greek  ethics. 
For  it  implies  a  fusion  of  morals  with  religion  as  we  can  trace  it  in 
the  history  of  Israel,  and  the  teaching  of  Christian  ethics.  If  it 
is  impossible  to  explain  duty  as  the  result  of  association  between 
the  ideas  of  public  and  private  advantage,  it  is  no  less  impossible 
to  make  it  an  independent  premise  for  a  conclusion  which  is  pre¬ 
supposed  in  it. 

The  argument  from  nature  is  closely  parallel.  It  is  hard  for  those 
whose  lives  have  been  moulded  on  the  belief  in  God,  the  Maker  of 
heaven  and  earth,  to  understand  the  inconclusiveness  of  the  argu¬ 
ment  to  those  who  have  abandoned  that  belief,  and  start,  as  it  were, 


II.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God. 


87 


from  outside.  Consequently  it  has  been  made  to  bear  more  than 
it  can  carry.  No  doubt  the  evolution  which  was  at  first  supposed 
to  have  destroyed  teleology  is  found  to  be  more  .saturated  with  tele¬ 
ology  than  the  view  which  it  superseded.  And  Christianity  can 
take  up  the  new  as  it  did  the  old,  and  find  in  it  a  confirmation  of 
its  own  belief.  But  it  is  a  confirmation,  not  a  proof,  and  taken  by 
itself  is  incomplete.  It  is  a  great  gain  to  have  eliminated  chance, 
to  find  science  declaring  that  there  must  be  a  reason  for  everything, 
even  when  it  cannot  hazard  a  conjecture  as  to  what  the  reason  is. 
But  apart  from  the  belief  of  our  moral  nature,  that  in  the  long  run 
everything  must  make  for  righteousness,  that  the  world  must  be 
moral  as  well  as  rational,  and  that  the  dramatic  tendency  in  the 
evolution  of  the  whole  would  be  irrational  if  it  had  not  a  moral 
goal,  the  science  of  nature  is  powerless  to  carry  us  on  to  a  personal 
God.  But  the  strength  of  a  rope  is  greater  than  the  strength  of  its 
separate  strands.  The  arguments  for  the  existence  of  God  are,  it 
has  been  said,  ‘sufficient,  not  resistless,  convincing,  not  compell¬ 
ing.’  1  We  can  never  demonstrate  the  existence  of  God  either  from 
conscience  or  from  nature.  But  our  belief  in  Him  is  attested  and 
confirmed  by  both. 

In  this  matter,  the  belief  in  God  stands  on  the  same  level  with 
the  belief  in  objective  reality.  Both  have  been  explained  away  by 
philosophers.  Neither  can  be  proved  but  by  a  circular  argument. 
Both  persist  in  the  consciousness  of  mankind.  Both  have  been 
purified  and  rationalized  by  the  growth  of  knowledge.  But  the 
moment  reason  attempts  to  start  without  assumptions,  and  claims 
exclusive  sovereignty  over  man,  a  paralysis  of  thought  results. 
There  have  been,  before  now,  philosophers  who  professed  to  begin  at 
the  beginning,  and  accept  nothing  till  it  was  proved  ;  and  the  result 
was  a  pure  Pyrrhonism.  They  could  not  prove  the  existence  of  an 
external  world.  They  believed  it,  even  if  they  did  not,  like  Hume, 
exult  in  the  fact  that  belief  triumphed  over  demonstration,  but 
there  was  no  sure  ground  for  believing  that  the  world  was  not  a 
mere  cerebral  phenomenon,  except  the  curiously  rational  cohe¬ 
rence  of  its  visions.  Even  Professor  Huxley,  in  his  ultra-sceptical 
moods,  admits  this.  He  says 2  that  ‘  for  any  demonstration  that 
can  be  given  to  the  contrary  effect,  the  “  collection  of  perceptions,” 
which  makes  up  our  consciousness,  may  be  an  orderly  phantasma¬ 
goria  generated  by  the  Ego,  unfolding  its  successive  scenes  on  the 
background  of  the  abyss  of  nothingness.’  But  no  one,  least  of  all 

1  The  Existence  of  God,  by  Rev.  R.  F.  Clarke,  S.  J.,  p.  6. 

2  Huxley’s  Hume,  p.  Si. 


88 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


a  man  of  science,  believes  this  to  be  so.  He  takes  reality  for 
granted,  and  only  tries  to  interpret  it  aright,  i.  e.,  in  such  a  way  as 
to  make  a  rational,  unity  of  the  facts  perceived.  Tell  a  scientific 
specialist,  —  ‘  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  beg  the  question.  You 
must  first  prove  that  nature  exists,  and  then  I  will  hear  about 
the  science  of  nature,’  and  he  will  say,  ‘  That  is  metaphysics,’ 
which  to  him  is  probably  a  synonym  for  an  intellectual  waste  of 
time.  ‘  Look  at  nature,’  he  will  say:  ‘what  more  do  you  want? 
If  nature  had  been  merely  a  phantasmagoria  there  would  have  been 
no  science  of  nature.  Of  course  you  must  make  your  “  act  of 
faith.”  1  You  must  believe  not  only  that  nature  exists,  but  that  it 
is  a  cosmos  which  can  be  interpreted,  if  you  can  only  find  the  key. 
The  proof  that  nature  is  interpretable,  is  that-  we  have,  at  least  in 
part,  been  able  to  interpret  her.  There  were  people  in  John 
Locke’s  day  who  professed  to  doubt  their  own  existence,  and  he 
was  content  to  answer  them  according  to  their  folly.  “  If  any  one,” 
he  says,2  “  pretends  to  be  so  sceptical  as  to  deny  his  own  existence 
(for  really  to  doubt  of  it  is  manifestly  impossible),  let  him,  for  me, 
enjoy  his  beloved  happiness  of  being  nothing,  until  hunger,  or  some 
other  pain,  convince  him  to  the  contrary.”  ’  We  do  not  call  a 
scientific  man  unreasonable  if  he  answers  thus,  though  he  is  justi¬ 
fying  his  premises  by  his  conclusion.  We  know  that  he  that  would 
study  nature  must  believe  that  it  is,  and  that  it  is  a  rational  whole 
which  reason  can  interpret  And  ‘  he  that  cometh  to  God  must 
believe  that  He  is,  and  that  He  is  the  rewarder  of  such  as  dili¬ 
gently  seek  Him.’  We  feel  our  kinship  with  both  before  the  instinc¬ 
tive  consciousness  is  justified  by  reason. 

And  there  is  a  remarkable  parallelism  in  the  process  of  verifica¬ 
tion.  The  counterpart  of  the  theological  belief  in  the  unity  and 
omnipresence  of  God  is  the  scientific  belief  in  the  unity  of  nature 
and  the  reign  of  law.  But  that  belief,  though  implicit  in  the  sim¬ 
plest  operation  of  reason,3  is  not  consciously  attained  till  late  in 
the  history  of  science.  And  even  when  it  is  reached,  it  is  not  at 
once  grasped  in  all  its  wealth  and  fulness.  It  is  thought  of  as 
mere  uniformity,  a  dull,  mechanical  repetition  of  events,  which  is 
powerless  to  explain  or  include  the  rich  variety  of  nature  and  the 
phenomena  of  life  and  growth.  It  is  to  meet  this  difficulty  that 

1  ‘  The  one  act  of  faith  in  the  convert  to  science,  is  the  confession  of  the 
universality  of  order  and  of  the  absolute  validity,  in  all  times  and  under  all 
circumstances,  of  the  law  of  causation.  This  confession  is  an  act  of  faith, 
because,  by  the  nature  of  the  case,  the  truth  of  such  propositions  is  not  sus¬ 
ceptible  of  proof.’ —  Huxley,  in  Darwin’s  Life  and  Letters,  ii.  200. 

2  Essay  IV.  10,  §  2. 

3  Cf.  Green’s  Works,  ii.  2S4. 


II.  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  God.  89 

J.  S.  Mill  naively  assures  us  that  ‘  the  course  of  nature  is  not  only 
uniform,  it  is  also  infinitely  various.’  1  But  soon  the  truth  is 
grasped,  that  the  reign  of  law  is  a  unity  which  is  higher  than  mere 
uniformity,  because  it  is  living,  and  not  dead,  and  includes  and 
transcends  difference.  It  is  the  analogue  in  science  to  that 
higher  and  fuller  view  of  God  in  which  He  is  revealed  as  Trinity 
in  Unity. 

But  as  these  parallel  processes  of  verification  go  on,  the  truth  is 
forced  upon  the  world  that  religion  and  philosophy  must  either  be 
in  internecine  conflict,  or  recognize  the  oneness  of  their  Object. 
‘We  and  the  philosophers,’  says  St.  Clement,  ‘  know  the  same  God, 
but  not  in  the  same  way.’ 2  Philosophy  and  religion  have  both 
been  enriched  by  wider  knowledge,  and  as  their  knowledge  has 
become  deeper  and  fuller,  the  adjustment  of  their  claims  has 
become  more  imperatively  necessary.  Few  in  our  day  would  will¬ 
ingly  abandon  either,  or  deliberately  sacrifice  one  to  the  other. 
Many  would  be  ready  to  assent  to  the  words  of  a  Christian  Father  : 
‘When  philosophy  and  the  worship  of  the  gods  are  so  widely  sepa¬ 
rated  that  the  professors  of  wisdom  cannot  bring  us  near  to  the 
gods,  and  the  priests  of  religion  cannot  give  us  wisdom,  it  is  man¬ 
ifest  that  the  one  is  not  true  wisdom,  and  the  other  is  not  true 
religion.  Therefore  neither  is  philosophy  able  to  conceive  the 
truth,  nor  is  religion  able  to  justify  itself.  But  where  philosophy 
is  joined  by  an  inseparable  connection  with  religion,  both  must 
necessarily  be  true,  because  in  our  religion  we  ought  to  be  wise, 
that  is,  to  know  the  true  Object  and  mode  of  worship,  and  in  our 
wisdom  to  worship,  that  is,  to  realize  in  action  what  we  know.’3 

It  is  sometimes  argued  :  You  have  let  in  more  than  the  thin 
end  of  the  wedge.  You  admit  that  ‘  it  is  the  province  of  reason  to 
judge  of  the  morality  of  the  Scripture.’4  You  profess  no  antago¬ 
nism  to  historical  and  literary  criticism.  Under  the  criticism  of 
reason,  Fetichism  has  given  way  to  Polytheism,  Polytheism  to 
Monotheism,  even  Monotheism  has  become  progressively  less 
anthropomorphic.  Why  object  to  the  last  step  in  the  process,  and 
cling  to  the  belief  in  a  Personal  God  ?  Simply  because  it  would 
make  the  difference  between  a  religion  purified  and  a  religion 
destroyed.  The  difference  between  the  30,000  gods  of  Hesiod, 
and  the  One  God  of  Christianity,  is  a  measurable  difference ;  the 
difference  between  a  Personal  God  and  an  impersonal  reason  is, 
so  far  as  religion  is  concerned,  infinite.  For  the  transition  from 

1  Log.,  Bk.  III.  ch.  iii.  §  2.  2  Strom.,  vi.  5. 

3  Lact ,  Institt.,  IV.  iii.  4  Butler’s  Analogy,  Pt.  II.  ch.  iii.  p.  1S3. 


90 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


Monotheism  to  Pantheism  is  made  only  by  the  surrender  of  reli¬ 
gion,  though  the  term  ‘  theism  ’  may  be  used  to  blur  the  line  of 
separation,  and  make  the  transition  easy. 

Religion  has,  before  all  things,  to  guard  the  heritage  of  truth, 
the  moral  revelation  of  God  in  Christ,  to  ‘  contend  earnestly  for 
the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints,’  and  to  trust  to  the  promised 
guidance  of  the  Spirit  of  Truth.  And  reason  interprets  religion  to 
itself,  and  by  interpreting  verifies  and  confirms.  Religion  there¬ 
fore  claims  as  its  own  the  new  light  which  metaphysics  and  science 
are  in  our  day  throwing  upon  the  truth  of  the  immanence  of  God ; 
it  protests  only  against  those  imperfect,  because  premature,  syn¬ 
theses,  which  in  the  interests  of  abstract  speculation  would  destroy 
religion.  It  dares  to  maintain  that  1  the  Fountain  of  wisdom  and 
religion  alike  is  God ;  and  if  these  two  streams  shall  turn  aside 
from  Him,  both  must  assuredly  run  dry.’  For  human  nature 
craves  to  be  both  religious  and  rational.  And  the  life  which  is  not 
both  is  neither. 


III. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  PAIN. 


♦ 


J.  R.  ILLINGWORTH. 


III. 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  PAIN. 

The  problem  of  pain,  always  prominent  in  a  sensitive  age,  has 
been  exceptionally  emphasized  in  the  literature  of  modern  pessi¬ 
mism  as  an  objection  to  Theism  in  general,  and  Christianity  in  par¬ 
ticular.  The  existence  of  pain  is  urged  as  incompatible  with  the 
belief  in  a  God  Who  is  at  once  omnipotent  and  benevolent,  that  is, 
with  Theism  in  its  ordinary  form  ;  while  Christianity  is  further 
charged  with  being  a  religion  of  pain,  a  religion  which  has  increased 
the  sum  of  actual,  and  the  expectation  of  prospective,  pain,  darken¬ 
ing  the  shadow  that  lies  upon  our  race.  Suffering  is  not  a  subject 
upon  which  anything  new  can  be  said.  It  has  long  ago  been 
probed  to  the  utmost  limit  of  our  capacity,  and  remains  a  mystery 
still.  But,  in  face  of  the  adverse  use  now  made  of  it,  it  may  be 
well  to  bear  in  mind  how  much  has  been  said  and  is  to  be  said 
upon  the  other  side. 

To  begin  with,  there  are  two  classes  of  pain,  animal  and  human, 
which,  however  intimately  they  may  be  connected,  must,  for  clear¬ 
ness,  be  considered  apart.  The  universality  of  pain  throughout 
the  range  of  the  animal  world,  reaching  back  into  the  distant  ages 
of  geology,  and  involved  in  the  very  structure  of  the  animal  organ¬ 
ism,  is  without  doubt  among  the  most  serious  problems  which  the 
Theist  has  to  face.  But  it  is  a  problem  in  dealing  with  which  emo¬ 
tion  is  very  often  mistaken  for  logic.  J.  S.  Mill’s  famous  indictment 
of  nature,  for  example,  is  one  of  the  most  emotional  pieces  of  rhe¬ 
toric  of  which  a  professed  logician  was  ever  guilty.  When  a  cer¬ 
tain  class  of  facts  is  urged  in  objection  to  our  Christian  belief,  we 
are  entitled  to  ask  how  many  of  those  facts  are  known,  and  how 
many  are  only  imagined.  There  is  of  course  a  scientific  use  of  the 
imagination,  but  it  is  only  permissible  within  the  bounds  of  possible, 
or  at  least  conceivable,  verification.  Imaginative  conjectures 
which,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  will  never  admit  either  of  veri¬ 
fication  or  disproof  are  poetry  and  not  science,  and  must  be  treated 
as  such  in  argument.  With  all  the  changes  that  have  passed  over 


94 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

our  knowledge,  we  may  still  do  well  to  attend  to  the  caution  with 
which  Butler  begins  his  Analogy  :  — 

‘  One  cannot  but  be  greatly  sensible  how  difficult  it  is  to  silence 
imagination  enough  to  make  the  voice  of  reason  even  distinctly 
heard ;  as  we  are  accustomed  from  our  youth  up  to  indulge  that 
forward  delusive  faculty,  ever  obtruding  beyond  its  sphere  ;  of  some 
assistance  indeed  to  apprehension,  but  the  author  of  all  error  :  as 
we  plainly  lose  ourselves  in  gross  and  crude  conceptions  of  things, 
taking  for  granted  that  we  are  acquainted  with  what  indeed  we  are 
wholly  ignorant  of.’ 

This  needs  repeating,  because  much  of  the  popular  knowledge 
of  the  day  consists  in  the  acceptance  of  results  without  examination 
of  the  methods  of  their  attainment ;  somewhat  as,  in  the  country¬ 
man’s  simple  faith,  a  thing  must  needs  be  true  because  he  has  seen 
it  in  a  book.  While  the  case  in  point  is  further  confused  by  the 
fact  that  imagination  has  an  important  bearing  on  all  our  conduct 
towards  the  lower  animals,  and  cannot,  for  that  purpose,  be  too 
emotionally  developed.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  err  on  the  safe 
side  in  practice,  and  another  to  convert  such  possible  error  into 
argument. 

What  then  do  we  really  know  about  the  suffering  of  animals  ? 
No  reasonable  man  doubts  that  they  suffer.  But  the  degree  and 
intensity  of  their  suffering  is  almost  entirely  a  matter  of  conjecture. 
We  speak  of,  and  are  affected  by  the  mass  of  animal  suffering ;  but 
we  must  remember  that  it  is  felt  distributively.  No  one  animal 
suffers  more  because  a  million  suffer  likewise.  And  what  we  have 
to  consider  is  the  amount  which  an  individual  animal  suffers.  We 
have  no  knowledge,  but  we  are  entitled  to  meet  conjecture  by  con¬ 
jecture.  We  may  fairly  suppose  that  the  animals  do  not  ‘  look 
before  and  after,’  and  it  is  this  that  gives  its  sting  to  human  pain. 
Again,  they  would  seem,  like  children,  to  give  strong  indications  of 
slight  pain.  Further,  many  muscular  contortions  which  simulate 
extreme  suffering  are  believed  on  scientific  evidence  to  be  due  to 
quite  other  causes.  And  then  there  are  the  phenomena  of  fascina¬ 
tion,  which  may  well  resemble  the  experience  of  Livingstone  in  the 
lion’s  mouth.  While  many  pains  are  prophylactic  and  directly 
contribute  to  the  avoidance  of  danger  and  maintenance  of  life. 
All  these  considerations  may  mitigate  our  view  of  animal  suffering. 
But  a  stronger  argument  is  to  be  drawn  from  our  profound  ignor¬ 
ance  of  the  whole  question.  Animals  can  perceive  colors  invisible 
to  us  ;  they  seem  to  have  organs  of  sensation  of  whose  nature  we 
know  nothing  ;  their  instincts  are  far  more  numerous  and  finer  than 
our  own;  what  compensations  may  they  not  have?  Again,  what 


95 


hi.  The  Problem  of  Pain. 

are  they?  Had  they  a  past?  May  they  not  have  a  future?  What 
is  the  relation  of  their  consciousness  to  the  mighty  life  which 
pulses  within  the  universe  ?  May  not  Eastern  speculation  about 
these  things  be  nearer  the  truth  than  Western  science  ?  All  these 
questions  are  in  the  region  of  the  unknown,  and  the  unknowable  ; 
and  in  face  of  them  the  Theistic  position  is  simply  this.  We 
believe,  on  complex  and  cumulative  proof,  in  an  omnipotent  and 
benevolent  Creator.  That  belief  is  a  positive  verdict  of  our  reason, 
interpreting  evidence  which  we  consider  irresistible.  And  against 
such  a  conclusion  no  presumption  of  the  imagination,  which  from 
the  nature  of  the  case  cannot  possibly  be  verified,  has  any  logical 
validity  at  all ;  not  to  mention  that  such  presumptions  admit  of 
being  met  by  as  probable  presumptions  on  the  other  side.  We 
decline  to  arraign  our  Creator  for  a  deed  which  we  have  not  even 
the  means  of  knowing  that  He  has  done. 

‘  All  difficulties  as  to  how  they  [the  animals]  are  to  be  disposed 
of  are  so  apparently  and  wholly  founded  in  our  ignorance  that  it  is 
wonderful  they  should  be  insisted  upon  by  any  but  such  as  are 
weak  enough  to  think  they  are  acquainted  with  the  whole  system 
of  things.  .  .  .  What  men  require  is  to  have  all  difficulties  cleared  ; 
and  this  is,  or  at  least  for  anything  we  know  to  the  contrary  it  may 
be,  the  same  as  requiring  to  comprehend  the  Divine  nature,  and 
the  whole  plan  of  providence  from  everlasting  to  everlasting.’ 1 

But  with  human  suffering  the  case  is  different,  for  here  we  are 
in  a  measure  behind  the  scenes.  We  watch  the  process  no  longer 
from  the  outside,  but  from  within ;  and  though  it  still  remains  mys¬ 
terious,  its  mystery  is  full  of  meaning.  In  saying  this  we  make  two 
assumptions  :  first,  that  moral  evil  is  an  ultimate  fact  for  us,  in  our 
present  state  of  being,  in  the  sense  that  it  can  neither  be  explained 
nor  explained  away  ;  and  secondly,  that  character,  and  not  pleas¬ 
ure,  being,  and  not  feeling,  or,  to  phrase  it  more  generally,  the 
greatest  goodness  of  the  greatest  number,  is  the  primary  end  of 
ethics.  The  first  of  these  assumptions  most  men  are  willing  to 
admit,  while  the  few  philosophical  attempts  to  disprove  it  have  con¬ 
spicuously  failed.  The  second  has  the  assent  of  all  moralists 
except  the  hedonists,  and  those  who  without  being  aware  of  it  are 
hedonists  in  disguise  :  the  pessimism,  for  example,  which  makes 
so  much  of  pain,  being  simply  disappointed  hedonism.  Starting 
then  from  these  premises,  the  problem  of  practical  ethics  is  the 
formation  of  character  in  the  face  of  moral  evil.  And  in  the  solu¬ 
tion  of  this  problem  pain  and  sorrow  have  a  place  which  no  other 
known  agency  conceivably  could  fill. 

1  Butler,  Analogy. 


96 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


To  begin  with  its  simplest  if  lowest  aspect,  pain  is  a  punishment ; 
and  without  importing  any  a  priori  notions  into  the  question,  we 
find  punishment  to  be  a  necessary  element  in  the  evolution  of 
character.  Punishment  is  a  complex  thing,  and  the  tendency  of 
civilization  is  to  lay  stress  upon  its  corrective  rather  than  its  vindic¬ 
tive  aspect.  But  we  must  remember  that  with  uncivilized  races 
this  cannot  be  the  case ;  and  that  pains  and  penalties,  considered 
simply  as  retrospective  vengeance  for  the  past,  have  been  histori¬ 
cally,  and  in  some  cases  still  are,  essential  to  our  social  develop¬ 
ment.  Indeed,  it  is  a  shallow  view  that  regards  vengeance  as  a 
survival  of  savagery.  Vengeance  is  intimately  bound  up  with  our 
sense  of  justice,  and  the  true  difference  between  the  savage  and 
the  sage  is  that  what  the  one  eagerly  inflicts  upon  his  neighbor, 
the  other  would  far  more  willingly  inflict  upon  himself.  Plato 
expressed  this  once  for  all  when  he  said  that  the  sinner  who  is 
punished  is  happier  than  the  sinner  who  escapes  scot  free.  We 
rightly  shrink,  as  far  as  possible,  from  sitting  in  judgment  on  our 
fellow-men ;  but  we  feel  none  the  less  that  our  own  ill  deeds 
demand  a  penalty,  which  may  vary  from  bodily  suffering  to  interior 
shame,  but  which  in  one  form  or  another  must  be  endured  before 
we  can  recover  our  self-respect.  And  self-respect  is  a  necessary 
factor  in  all  moral  progress.  Punishment,  then,  considered  as  ven¬ 
geance,  is  a  necessity  for  the  social  development  of  barbarous 
races ;  and  though  less  obviously,  quite  as  really  for  the  personal 
progress  of  the  civilized  man. 

Now,  without  committing  ourselves  to  the  statement  that  suffer¬ 
ing  was  introduced  into  the  world  by  sin,  which  is  not  a  Christian 
dogma,  though  it  is  often  thought  to  be  so,  a  vast  amount  of  the 
suffering  in  the  world  is  obviously  punishment,  and  punishment  of 
a  very  searching  kind.  For  not  only  are  obvious  vices  punished 
with  remorse,  and  disease,  and  shame,  but  ignorance,  impatience, 
carelessness,  even  mistakes  of  judgment,  are  punished  too,  and 
that  in  a  degree  which  we  are  apt  to  consider  disproportionate  ; 
forgetful  that  consequences  are  God’s  commentaries,  and  this 
apparent  disproportion  may  reflect  light  upon  the  real  magnitude 
of  what  we  often  are  too  ready  to  consider  trivial  things. 

But  these  punishments,  it  is  urged,  fall  on  the  innocent  as  well 
as  the  guilty.  And  this  leads  us  to  another  point  of  view.  Pain 
is  not  only  punitive.  It  is  also  corrective  and  purgatorial.  And 
this  again  is  a  fact  of  ordinary  experience,  quite  apart  from  the 
further  consideration  of  why  it  should  be  so.  Among  primitive 
races  the  penalties  of  law,  by  the  merely  mechanical  process  of 
forcibly  restraining  certain  actions,  slowly  elevate  the  social  tone. 


hi.  The  Problem  of  Pain. 


97 


And  as  men  rise  in  the  scale  of  development  and  begin  to  be  a 
law  to  themselves,  the  same  process  is  continued  within  the  indi¬ 
vidual  mind.  The  pains  and  penalties  of  evil  doing,  physical  and 
mental,  tend  to  correct  and  purify  the  character ;  and  when  we 
say  that  men  learn  wisdom  by  experience,  we  mostly  mean  by 
experience  of  something  painful.  Of  course,  the  most  obvious 
form  of  this  correction  is  that  in  which  the  suffering  can  be  recog¬ 
nized  by  the  sufferer  as  merited,  because  due  to  his  own  misdeeds. 
But  apart  from  such  causal  connection,  what  we  call  unmerited 
suffering  exercises  the  same  influence  in  an  even  greater  measure. 
Its  forces,  not  being  exhausted  in  the  work  of  neutralizing  past 
evil,  are  able  to  expand  and  expend  themselves  in  a  positive 
direction,  elevating,  refining,  dignifying  the  character  to  an  infi¬ 
nite  degree.  The  men  of  sorrows  are  the  men  of  influence  in 
every  walk  of  life.  Martyrdom  is  the  certain  road  to  success  in 
any  cause.  Even  more  than  knowledge,  pain  is  power.  And  all 
this  because  it  develops  the  latent  capacities  of  our  being  as  no 
other  influence  can.  It  requires  no  mystic  insight  to  see  the 
truth  of  this.  However  unable  we  may  be  to  account  for  it,  it  is 
a  fact  of  every-day  experience,  visible  to  ordinary  common-sense. 
And  this  being  so,  there  is  nothing  of  necessity  unjust  in  what  we 
call  unmerited  suffering,  not  even  in  the  sad  inheritance  by  chil¬ 
dren  of  the  results  of  parental  sin.  For  while  the  sight  of  the  mis¬ 
erable  entail  may,  if  rightly  used,  become  the  parent’s  punishment, 
its  imposition  may  be  the  child’s  call  to  higher  things.  True,  like 
all  other  useful  agencies,  it  often  fails  of  its  end  ;  but  such  failure 
is  of  the  problem  of  evil,  not  of  the  problem  of  pain. 

And,  lastly,  with  men,  as  with  animals,  suffering  is  largely  pro¬ 
phylactic.  Bodily  pain  sounds  the  alarm-bell  of  disease  in  time 
for  its  removal.  Mental  and  moral  pain  arrest  the  issues  of  igno¬ 
rant  or  evil  courses  before  it  is  too  late.  While  the  desire  to 
remove  pain  from  ourselves,  or  better  still  from  others,  is  among 
the  strongest  incentives  of  the  scientific  discoverer,  the  patriot, 
the  philanthropist.  And  though  it  may  seem  a  fallacy  to  credit 
pain  with  the  virtues  which  spring  from  the  desire  for  its  removal, 
common-sense  rises  above  logic  and  recognizes  the  real  value  of 
a  spur  without  which  many  of  our  noblest  activities  would  cease. 

Now,  though  all  these  considerations  naturally  lead  on  into  the¬ 
ology  for  their  further  treatment,  yet  it  should  be  noticed  that  they 
are  in  no  sense  exclusively  theological.  The  penal,  the  corrective, 
the  preventive,  and  the  stimulating  uses  of  pain  are  all  recognized 
in  the  average  man’s  philosophy  of  life.  Indeed,  they  are  too 
obvious  to  need  dwelling  on  at  any  length.  But  the  point  to  be 

7 


98 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


noticed  is,  that  taken  together,  they  cover  a  very  great  deal  of 
ground.  For  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  in  one  or  other  of 
its  various  aspects,  every  human  being  has  need  of  suffering  for  the 
due  development  of  his  character.  And  this  is  a  fact  which  should 
go  far  to  outweigh  much  brilliant  declamation  of  the  pessimists. 
Pessimism,  in  fact,  stereotypes  and  gives  a  fictitious  permanence  to 
what  is  only  one  among  our  many  moods  of  thought.  It  harps 
upon  the  fact  that  ve  naturally  shrink  from  pain.  It  ignores  the 
fact  that  we  are  conscious  of  being  the  better  for  it,  and  unable  to 
conceive  progress  without  it.  And  though  these  considerations 
afford  no  solution  to  the  speculative  mystery  of  pain,  they  make  in 
the  direction  of  a  speculative  solution.  They  do  not  explain  why 
pain  exists,  but  they  show  us  that  its  existence,  in  the  only  region 
in  which  we  can  really  test  it,  is  eminently  useful,  and  therefore 
consistent  with  providential  and  beneficent  design.  Their  precise 
logical  relation  to  the  Theistic  argument  might  be  put  as  follows  : 
Arguments  drawn  from  many  departments  of  life  and  thought  con¬ 
verge  in  favor  of  Theism,  but  one  large  and  important  department, 
that  of  human  suffering,  blocks  the  way.  When,  however,  we  iso¬ 
late  and  examine  that  department,  we  find  that  even  within  its 
limits  the  evidence  of  provident  purpose  is  prominent,  if  not  pre¬ 
ponderant.  Its  prominence  is  certainly  enough  to  neutralize  the 
negative  bearing  of  the  department  upon  the  general  argument. 
Its  preponderance,  which  many  if  not  most  men  would  admit, 
carries  us  farther,  and  makes  the  net  evidence  of  the  whole  depart¬ 
ment  an  affirmative  contribution  to  Theism. 

So  far  common-sense  carries  us.  But  when  we  turn  to  the  place 
of  pain  in  the  religions  of  the  world,  two  further  thoughts  are 
suggested.  In  the  first  place,  the  belief  in  a  future  life,  which  is 
common  to  almost  all  religions,  at  once  opens  endless  vistas  of 
possibility  before  us.  The  pain  which  has  failed  to  purify  here, 
may  yet  purify  hereafter ;  the  high-handed  wrong-doing,  which 
has  seemed  to  go  unpunished  here,  may  there  meet  with  its  right¬ 
eous  due.  The  pains  which  we  have  thought  excessive  here,  may 
there  be  found  to  have  worked  out  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding 
weight  of  glory.  And  so  the  particular  difficulty  which  arises  from 
the  unequal  incidence  of  earthly  suffering  may  one  day  find  its 
adequate  solution.  No  doubt  there  is  an  element  of  truth  in  the 
familiar  taunt  that  belief  in  a  future  life  has  been  a  curse  as  well  as 
a  blessing  to  the  world.  In  some  stages  of  culture,  for  example, 
the  future  life  has  been  supposed  only  to  emphasize  the  inequal¬ 
ities  of  the  present :  the  slave  living  on  in  everlasting  slavery,  and 
the  warrior  in  incessant  war.  But  this  has  been  a  partial  and  a 


in.  The  Problem  of  Pain. 


99 


passing  phase  of  thought,  which  rapidly  gave  way  before  more 
ethical  conceptions.  The  ethical  conceptions  in  their  turn,  which 
were  based  on  future  rewards  and  punishments,  confessedly  could 
not  produce  a  very  high  type  of  morality.  But  they  have  filled 
their  place,  and  that  a  large  one  in  the  history  of  human  develop¬ 
ment,  while  even  after  ceasing  to  be  the  dominant  motives,  they 
still  witness  to  the  ineradicable  expectation  of  our  race,  that  holi¬ 
ness  and  happiness,  sin  and  failure,  shall  one  day  coincide.  More 
serious  and  sad  is  the  fact  that  distorted  dreams  of  future  punish¬ 
ment  have  often  reflected  a  lurid  light  upon  the  whole  of  life ; 
goading  zealots  into  cruelty,  sinners  into  madness,  thinkers  into 
unbelief;  and  have  lingered  on,  as  savage  survivals,  even  into 
Christian  times,  to  the  hopeless  obscuration,  in  many  minds,  of 
the  creed  that  God  is  Love.  But  even  here  we  must  draw  dis¬ 
tinctions.  Early  races  express  intensity  by  an  accumulation  of 
material  metaphors,  —  fecundity  by  a  hundred  breasts,  omnipo¬ 
tence  and  omniscience  by  a  hundred  arms  or  a  thousand  eyes. 
And  so,  when  they  saw  the  unrighteous  man  enjoy  the  fruits  of 
his  unrighteousness,  and  die  in  unrebuked  defiance  of  laws  human 
and  divine,  their  sense  of  outraged  justice  could  not  but  express 
itself  in  terms  of  material  horror.  We  have  grown  to  be  more 
pitiful,  more  refined  in  our  moral  thinking,  less  dogmatic  about 
unknown  things ;  yet  neither  our  moral  experience  nor  our  Chris¬ 
tianity  has  availed  to  remove  the  dread  of  that  unutterable  1  pain 
of  loss  ’  which  the  passing  of  a  soul  in  obdurate  impenitence  has 
ever  suggested  to  the  mind  of  man.  And  however  confidently 
therefore  we  may  put  aside  the  distortions,  and  debasements,  and 
interested  exaggerations  which  have  darkened  the  thought  of 
future  punishment,  we  must  remember  that  the  thought  itself  was 
no  alien  introduction  into  history,  but  due  to  the  instinctive  crav¬ 
ing  of  the  human  heart  for  justice,  —  man’s  own  tremendous  verdict 
on  his  sin.1  But  the  universality,  or  at  least  extreme  generality,  of 
the  belief  in  a  continued  existence,  is  quite  distinct  from  the  par¬ 
ticular  pictures  of  it  which  the  imagination  has  variously  drawn  ; 
much  as  the  universality  of  conscience  is  distinct  from  its  varying 
content  among  diverse  races  and  in  different  ages.  And  the 
broad  fact  remains  that  from  the  dawn  of  history  the  majority  of 
mankind  have  believed  in  and  looked  with  confidence  to  a  future 
life  to  rectify,  and  therefore  justify,  the  inequalities  of  earthly  suf¬ 
fering  ;  however  much  their  views  have  varied  as  to  what  should 
constitute  rectification. 


1  Cf.  pp.  43i-4 33- 


IOO 


The  Rcligioii  of  the  Incarnation . 


Secondly,  there  is  an  instinctive  tendency  in  all  religions,  from 
the  savage  upwards,  to  view  pain,  whether  in  the  form  of  asceticism 
or  sacrifice,  as  inseparably  connected  with  an  acceptable  service  of 
the  gods  or  God.  The  asceticism  of  poor  Caliban  foregoing  his 
little  mess  of  whelks,  and  that  of  the  Hindoo  whose  meritorious 
sufferings  are  expected  to  prevail,  by  intrinsic  right,  with  Heaven ; 
the  hideous  holocausts  of  Mexico,  and  the  paper  substitutes  for  offer¬ 
ings  of  the  parsimonious  or  hypocritical  Chinee  are  widely  different 
things.  But  they  all  spring  from  a  common  instinct,  variously  dis¬ 
torted,  yet  persistent  through  all  distortions,  and  progressively 
refined,  till  it  culminates  in  the  Hebrew  substitution  of  the  broken 
heart  for  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats.  It  is  the  custom  of  some 
modern  writers  to  represent  the  higher  forms  of  sacrifice  as  merely 
survivals  of  the  savage  desire  to  propitiate  the  gods  by  food.  But 
this  is  not  an  adequate  analysis  even  of  the  savage  creed.  Natur¬ 
ally  enough  the  primitive  hunter,  to  whom  food  is  the  chief  good, 
may  think  food  the  worthiest  offering  to  the  gods.  But  it  is  not 
simply  food,  but  his  own  food,  that  he  offers,  the  choicest  morsel, 
that  which  it  costs  him  something  to  forego.  In  other  words,  the 
root  of  sacrifice  is  self-sacrifice,  however  crudely  it  may  be  ex¬ 
pressed.  Of  course,  the  primitive  hypocrite  would  seek  to  evade 
personal  suffering  as  naturally  as  the  civilized  hypocrite  will  give 
alms  at  another  man’s  expense.  But  sincerity  must  come  before 
hypocrisy,  and  the  sacrificial  instinct  is  in  origin  sincere.  Its  first 
account  of  itself  may  be  irrational,  and  its  earlier  manifestations 
often  blundering  and  repulsive ;  and  if  it  were  now  only  a  survival, 
the  same  should  be  true  of  its  later  forms,  for  survivals  are  not 
commonly  improved  in  the  process  of  surviving.  But  so  far  from 
this  being  the  case,  it  has  been  refined  by  successive  developments, 
and  is  as  integral  an  element  of  later  as  of  earlier  religions,  being 
in  fact  the  symbolic  statement  that  a  more  or  less  painful  self¬ 
surrender  is  the  necessary  condition  of  all  human  approach  to  the 
divine.  Natural  religion  then,  in  the  widest  use  of  the  term,  car¬ 
ries  us  on  beyond  common-sense,  in  attributing  a  mysterious  value 
to  suffering  here,  and  expecting  an  explanation  of  its  anomalies 
hereafter.  The  first  belief  may  be  called  mystical,  the  second 
hypothetical ;  and  yet  the  two  together  have  done  more  to  recon¬ 
cile  man  to  his  burden  of  sorrow  than  all  the  philosophic  com¬ 
ments  on  the  uses  of  adversity ;  for  they  have  seemed  to  lift  him, 
though  blindfold,  into  a  loftier  region,  where  he  felt  himself  in¬ 
breathing  power  from  on  high.  And  so  here,  as  in  other  things, 
natural  religion  leads  on  into  Christianity. 

The  relation  of  Christianity  to  the  problem  of  pain,  may  be  best 


hi.  The  Problem  of  Pam . 


IOI 


seen  by  contrasting  it  with  the  empirical  optimism  of  common- 
sense.  Enlightened  common-sense,  as  we  have  seen,  is  fully 
aware  of  the  uses  of  sorrow ;  but  it  looks  at  the  usefulness  through 
the  sorrowfulness,  as  a  compensation  which  should  make  the  wise 
man  content  to  bear  his  pain.  The  change  which  Christianity  has 
effected  consists  in  the  reversal  of  this  view  of  the  subject.  Once 
for  all,  it  has  put  the  value  before  the  painfulness  in  our  thoughts. 
The  Author  and  Finisher  of  our  faith,  ‘  for  the  joy  that  was  set 
before  Him,  endured  the  Cross,  despising  the  shame,’  and  ‘  our 
light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh  for  us  a  far 
more  exceeding  weight  of  glory,  while  we  look  not  at  the  things 
which  are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which  are  unseen.’  It  bids  us 
not  wait  ‘  till  the  sorrow  comes  with  years,’  but  take  up  our  cross, 
from  the  first  moment  of  our  conscious  discipleship.  And  accord¬ 
ingly  the  real  Christian  looks  at  sorrow,  not  from  without,  but  from 
within,  and  does  not  approach  its  speculative  difficulty  till  he  is 
aware  by  experience  of  its  practical  power.  Consequently  he 
cannot  explain  himself  to  the  merely  external  critic.  He  may 
urge  in  argument  such  general  considerations  as  have  been  touched 
upon  above,  and  meet  the  pleas  of  pessimism  with  the  counter¬ 
pleas  of  philosophic  optimism  ;  but  if  pressed  for  the  inner  secret 
of  his  own  serenity,  he  can  only  answer  with  the  esoteric  invita¬ 
tion,  4  Come  and  see.’  Enter  the  dim  sanctuary  of  sorrow  through 
the  shadow  of  the  Cross.  Abide  there,  and  as  your  eyes  grow 
accustomed  to  the  darkness,  the  strange  lines  upon  its  walls  which 
seemed  at  first  so  meaningless,  will  group  themselves  into  shapes 
and  forms  of  purposeful  design. 

Once  for  all  the  sinless  suffering  of  the  Cross  has  parted  sin 
from  suffering  with  a  clearness  of  distinction  never  before  achieved. 
The  intellectual  Greek  had  tended  to  confuse  the  two  as  kindred 
forms  of  ignorance  ;  the  weary  Oriental  as  kindred  consequences 
of  our  imprisonment  in  the  body,  ‘  the  too,  too  solid  flesh ;  ’ 
the  self-righteous  Jew  viewed  blindness,  or  death  from  a  falling 
tower,  as  evidence  of  exceptional  sin.  Everywhere  in  the  ancient 
world  the  outlines  of  the  two  were  undefined,  and  their  true  rela¬ 
tion  of  antagonism  misunderstood.  But  the  sight  of  perfect  sinless- 
less,  combined  with  perfect  suffering,  has  cleared  our  view  forever. 
Sin,  indeed,  always  brings  suffering  in  its  train  ;  but  the  suffering 
we  now  see  to  be  of  the  nature  of  its  antidote,  —  an  antidote  often 
applied  indeed  with  inexorable  sternness,  but  in  its  intention  wholly 
merciful.  Thus  every  sin  has  its  appropriate  suffering.  Bodily 
indulgence  brings  bodily  disease ;  cruelty  ends  in  cowardice ; 
pride  and  vanity  in  shame.  And  though  the  suffering  of  itself 


102  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

cannot  convert  the  sinner,  it  can  and  does  prevent  both  the  grati¬ 
fication  and  contagion  of  the  sin.  Then  comes  the  more  terrible 
sorrow  of  remorse  ;  and  remorse  is  potential  penitence,  and  peni¬ 
tence  potential  purification.  But  while  sin  thus  involves  suffering, 
suffering  does  not  involve  sin.  It  is  not  only  an  antidote,  but  one 
of  those  antidotes  which  taken  in  time  is  prophylactic.  And  this 
is  not  only  true  of  the  pains  of  self-denial  and  self-sacrifice,  the 
voluntary  bearing  of  the  cross,  but  of  many  an  involuntary  sorrow 
also.  Delicate  health,  Plato’s  bridle  of  Theages,  inherited  pain,  spir¬ 
itual  privation,  bereavement,  may  all  refine  the  character  and  train 
the  eye  to  that  purity  of  heart  that  shall  see  God.  Pain,  in  fact, 
in  its  manifold  methods,  is  like  the  angel  of  the  Eastern  story, — 
changing  its  form  incessantly  to  cope  with  the  shifting  shapes  of 
sin,  and  passing  by  turns  into  a  lion,  a  bird,  a  sword,  a  flood,  a 
flame,  in  sleepless  eagerness  to  follow  and  find,  and  slay  and 
quench  and  burn  away  the  least  last  lingering  particle  of  evil.  So 
far  from  being  our  enemy,  it  is  our  safest  ally  in  the  battle  of  life, 
and  we  fail  through  shrinking  from  the  stem  alliance.  We  suffer 
because  we  sin  ;  but  we  also  sin  because  we  decline  to  suffer. 

Still,  the  very  sharpness  of  the  severance  between  sin  and  suffer¬ 
ing  on  the  Cross  forces  upon  us  the  further  question  :  Why  should 
the  sinless  suffer?  The  vicarious  suffering  of  Christ  is  said  to  con¬ 
flict  with  our  sense  of  justice.  And  it  does  so,  as  misrepresented 
in  much  popular  theology.  But  rightly  viewed,  it  is  the  climax 
and  complete  expression  of  the  process  to  which  we  owe  the  entire 
evolution  of  our  race.  The  pleasures  of  each  generation  evapo¬ 
rate  in  air ;  it  is  their  pains  that  increase  the  spiritual  momentum 
of  the  world.  We  enter  into  life  through  the  travail  of  another. 
We  live  upon  the  death  of  the  animals  beneath  us.  The  neces¬ 
sities,  the  comforts,  the  luxuries  of  our  existence  are  provided  by 
the  labor  and  sorrow  of  countless  fellow-men.  Our  freedom,  our 
laws,  our  literature,  our  spiritual  sustenance,  have  been  won  for  us 
at  the  cost  of  broken  hearts,  and  wearied  brains,  and  noble  lives 
laid  down.  And  this  is  only  the  human  analogue  of  that  trans¬ 
ference  of  energy  by  which  all  life  and  movement  is  forever  car¬ 
ried  on.  The  sun  is  so  much  the  cooler  by  the  heat  it  daily  gives 
to  earth  ;  the  plant  and  tree  the  weaker  by  the  force  that  has 
matured  their  fruit ;  the  animal  generations  exhausted  in  con¬ 
tinuing  their  kind.  And  how  should  their  Creator  draw  all  men 
unto  Him  but  through  the  instrumentality  of  His  own  great  law  of 
sacrifice?  If  we  shrink  from  our  share  in  the  conditions  of  the 
solemn  legacy,  it  is  easy  to  persuade  ourselves  that  the  system  of 
things  is  wrong.  But  if  we  accept  it,  and  resolve  that  we  too  in 


hi.  The  Problem  of  Pam. 


103 


our  tarn  will  spend  and  be  spent  for  others,  we  find  beneath  all 
the  superficial  suffering  the  deep  truth  of  the  benediction,  k  It  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.’  And  in  the  experience  of 
that  benediction  we  see  further  still  into  the  mysterious  significance 
of  sorrow. 

Further;  but  not  yet  to  the  end.  For  the  human  heart  desires 
more  than  merely  to  work  for  others.  It  desires  to  be  one  with 
those  for  whom  it  works.  Love  is  the  highest  form  of  that  unity ; 
but  even  short  of  actual  love,  we  instinctively  crave  communion 
and  sympathy  with  our  kind.  x\nd  it  is  no  morbid  view  of  life  to 
say  that  sorrow  brings  about  this  union  in  a  way  that  joy  does  not. 
There  is  something,  under  our  present  conditions,  in  the  very 
expansiveness  of  joy  which  dissociates,  while  sorrow  seems  to 
weld  us,  like  hammer  strokes  on  steel.  It  is  the  nationality  whose 
members  have  together  struggled  for  existence,  the  soldiers  who 
have  faced  the  shock  of  battle  side  by  side,  the  persecuted  party, 
the  husband  and  wife  who  have  known  common  suffering,  that  are 
most  intimately,  indissolubly  one.  Nor  is  this  union  merely  nega¬ 
tive,  like  the  bond  which  fellow-prisoners  feel,  and  yet  would 
eagerly  escape  from  if  they  could.  It  is  due  to  a  distinct  sense 
that  the  common  crisis  has  aroused  all  that  is  highest  and  noblest 
and  most  spiritual,  and  therefore  most  sympathetic,  in  the  soul. 

But  again,  it  is  only  in  the  light  from  the  Cross  that  we  can  see 
why  pain  should  possess  this  power.  For  in  that  light  we  under¬ 
stand  how  pain  unites  us  to  each  other,  because,  as  even  natural 
religion  dimly  felt,  it  unites  us  to  God,  and  therefore  through  Him 
to  those  who  in  Him  live  and  move  and  have  their  being.  It 
unites  us  to  God  because  it  purifies  us,  because  it  detaches  us 
from  earth,  because  it  quickens  our  sense  of  dependence,  because 
it  opens  our  spiritual  vision,  and  above  all  because  He  too,  as 
man,  has  suffered.  But  the  mystics  who  have  seen  farthest  into 
heavenly  things  have  felt  that  it  unites  us  to  God  in  still  more  vital 
wise,  as  being,  at  least  in  its  form  of  sacrifice,  the  very  beating  of 
the  heart  of  love.  And  so  they  have  raised  the  question  :  Has 
it  not  an  antitype  far  in  the  illimitable  depths  of  the  unseen?  For 
we  are  told  that  God  is  Love ;  and  love,  as  we  know  it,  must  be 
shown  in  sacrifice  ;  though  the  sacrifice  grows  painless  in  propor¬ 
tion  as  the  love  is  pure.  And  when  we  recall  how  in  the  days  of 
our  Lord’s  ministry  on  earth,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit  bore 
their  witness  each  to  other,  but  no  one  of  the  Holy  Persons  ever 
to  Himself,  we  are  led  on  to  wonder  whether  ‘in  the  light  that  no 
man  can  approach  unto,’  where  the  Three  are  One,  some  higher 
analogue  of  what  we  call  sacrifice  does  not  forever  flame ;  whose 


104  7 he  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

radiant  reflection  on  the  universe  only  becomes  shadow  when  it 
falls  on  a  world  of  sin.  But  however  these  high  things  may  be, 
the  simplest  Christian  feels  and  knows  that,  in  his  present  state, 
the  unitive  way,  the  way  to  union  with  both  God  and  man,  is  the 
‘via  dolorosa,’  the  way  of  the  cross,  —  a  serious  and  solemn  belief, 
which  is  very  far  from  leading  to  complacency,  in  presence  of  the 
awful  spectacle  of  animal  and  human  pain,  but  still  is  based  on 
sufficient  experience  to  justify  the  hope  that  all  its  mystery  will 
be  one  day  solved.  More  than  this  we  do  not  expect,  for  the 
intellect,  in  our  Christian  view,  is  as  much  on  its  probation  and 
as  liable  to  error  as  the  will ;  and  inordinate  curiosity  not  less 
misleading  than  inordinate  desire. 


IV. 


PREP  A  RA  TION  IN  HISTORY  FOR 

CHRIST. 

- ♦ - 


EDWARD  S.  TALBOT. 


. 


IV. 


PREPARATION  IN  HISTORY  FOR  CHRIST 


The  paradox  of  Divine  mystery  implied  in  the  words  ‘The 
Word  was  made  flesh,’  is  not  exhausted  by  a  right  understanding 
of  the  Person  of  Christ.  It  extends  to  the  relations  between 
Christ  and  History.  On  the  one  hand,  the  Incarnation  of  the 
Son  of  God  appears  as  supreme,  solitary,  unique,  transcending  all 
analogies  of  experience,  all  limitations  of  nationality  or  generation, 
determined  before  the  world  was,  beyond  the  power  of  any  ante¬ 
cedents  to  produce,  the  entry  of  a  new  thing  into  the  world.  It 
appears,  in  short,  as  a  miracle.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  appears 
as  an  historical  event,  occurring  at  a  particular  date,  appealing  to 
the  feelings  and  fulfilling  the  hopes  of  the  time,  a  climax  and  a 
new  point  of  departure  in  the  historical  order.  It  does  this, 
necessarily,  because  this  is  involved  in  the  act  of  taking  flesh,  of 
entering  simply,  literally,  naturally  into  the  conditions  of  human 
life.  Such  a  thing  occurs,  and  must  occur,  in  the  natural  order. 
To  say  this  is  not  to  dictate  what  a  Divine  revelation  must  be,  but 
only  to  show  what  Christianity  asserts  of  itself.  In  this  way  it  was 
good  in  God’s  sight  that  His  revelation  should  come. 

It  follows  from  this,  in  the  first  place,  that  there  must  be  two 
ways,  both  valid  and  necessary,  of  approaching  in  thought  and 
study  Christ  manifest  in  the  flesh.  We  may  treat  the  fact  of  His 
appearing  with  little  or  no  reference  to  historical  relations,  for  its 
own  inherent  unchanging  truth  and  meaning.  We  may  also  treat 
it  as  clothed  in  historical  event,  to  be  understood  in  its  relations 
with  what  went  before  and  followed  after  and  stood  around.  The 
two  methods  supplement  one  another.  It  may  be  true  that  the 
simple  personal  claim  which  the  solitary  figure  of  Jesus  Christ 
makes  upon  us,  by  its  unalterable  moral  dignity  and  beauty,  its 
typical  humanity,  its  unearthly  authority,  is  the  strongest  that  can 
be  made* :  none  the  less  may  that  claim  be  confirmed  and  rein¬ 
forced  if  we  see  the  same  figure  as  it  were  upon  an  historical 
throne ;  if  it  should  become  clear  that  what  went  before  (and 


io8  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

what  followed  after)  does,  in  any  way,  pay  homage  to  Him ;  if 
the  manner  of  His  appearing  in  place  and  time  be  calculated  to 
heighten  the  impression  which  the  fact  of  it  makes. 

And  in  the  second  place,  it  follows  that  to  start  in  any  historical 
treatment  of  the  subject  of  this  paper  from  the  central  twofold 
assertion  as  to  Christ,  made  by  St.  John  in  the  phrase,  ‘The  Word 
was  made  flesh,  *  is  to  obtain  at  once  the  right  clew  to  the  lines  which 
it  should  follow. 

( 1 )  To  do  so  is  not  to  beg  the  question  or  to  fetter  the  inquiry, 
but  only  to  define  what  kind  of  evidence,  if  any,  the  study  of 
Christ’s  relation  to  foregoing  history  can  yield.  We  see  that  it 
must  be  such  as  works  in  us  the  conviction  that  He  both  does, 
and  does  not,  occur  ‘  naturally  ’  at  the  time  and  place  when  He 
appeared ;  that  history  leads  up  to  Him  and  prepares  His  way, 
and  yet  that  no  force  of  natural  antecedents  can  account  for  Him 
or  tor  His  work.  It  is  true  that  evidence  for  either  side  of  this 
two-sided  impression  may  have  sufficient  weight  to  determine 
faith,  especially  with  individual  minds.  The  contrast  between 
Christ  and  all  else  in  history,  arresting  the  attention  and  suggesting 
the  thought  of  special  Divine  presence,  may  of  itself  be  a  spring 
of  faith ;  or,  upon  the  other  hand,  a  clear  discernment  of  His 
natural  supremacy  in  history  may  lead  a  man  on  to  higher  truth. 
But  the  true  evidence,  as  corresponding  to  the  true  and  full  claim, 
will  be  that  which  suggests  the  conclusion  with  simultaneous  and 
equal  force  from  either  side. 

(2)  If  the  aim  is  not  evidence  but  instruction,  and  we  desire 
simply  to  understand  better  what  is  true  of  our  Lord’s  relation  to 
history,  it  will  still  advantage  us  greatly  to  start  from  the  same 
point.  We  shall  be  able  to  recognize  freely  and  without  fear  of 
contradiction  or  confusion,  on  the  one  side,  the  way  in  which  the 
lines  of  history,  of  human  experience,  aspiration,  achievement, 
character,  need,  lead  up  to  Christ  and  issue  in  Him;  and  on  the 
other,  the  unearthly  and  peculiar  greatness  of  Him  Who  spake  as 
never  man  spake,  Who  taught  as  one  that  had  authority  and  not 
as  the  Scribes,  Who  was  not  convinced  by  any  of  sin  ;  Whose 
daily  intimacy  with  a  disciple  issued  in  that  disciple’s  confession, 

‘  Thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  Living  God.’  Such  a  method, 
starting  from  the  Christian  claim,  and  trying  to  trace  out  all  that 
it  involves,  need  not  be  only  for  the  believer,  any  more  than 
the  quest  for  evidence  or  witness  is  for  those  only  who  do  not 
believe.  The  Christian  tests  the  foundations,  and  welcomes  every 
corroboration,  of  his  faith ;  while,  in  dwelling  on  the  character  of 
the  work  and  of  its  relations  to  all  else,  the  non-believer  may  come 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ .  109 

to  find  the  conviction  grow  upon  him  that  it  was  indeed  i  wrought 
of  God.’ 

(3)  From  the  same  point,  we  see  at  once  to  what  double  mis¬ 
understanding  or  double  attack  the  Gospel  not  only  may  but  must 
be  liable.  On  the  one  side,  it  may  be  refused  a  hearing  as  miracu¬ 
lous  ;  it  may  be  understood  as  violating  the  natural  order  which  it 
transcends  ;  it  may  be  regarded  and  resented  as  an  anomaly  in 
history.  On  the  other  side,  a  consideration  of  the  aptness  of  its 
occurrence  when  and  where  it  did  occur,  and  of  its  harmonious 
relations  to  many  lines  of  tendency,  will  suggest  the  suspicion  that 
it  may  be  after  all  only  a  result,  though  a  supreme  and  surprising 
result,  of  historical  forces.  In  a  word,  it  may  be  accused  at  once 
from  separate,  possibly  from  the  same,  quarters  as  too  supernatural 
and  too  natural  to  be  what  it  claims  to  be.  It  is  ail  important  to 
notice  at  the  outset  that  liability  to  this  double  attack  is  an  inevi¬ 
table  incident  of  its  true  character  and  of  that  which  makes  its 
glory ;  namely,  the  presence  of  true  Godhead  under  truly  human 
conditions. 

But  to  return  to  the  main  point. 

The  importance  and  interest  of  the  subject  of  this  paper  may 
be  inferred,  as  we  have  seen,  directly  from  what  the  Incarnation 
claims  to  be.  But  we  are  not  left  to  infer  it  for  ourselves.  Noth¬ 
ing  is  clearer  or  more  striking  than  the  place  which  it  occupied 
from  the  outset  in  the  declaration  of  the  Gospel.  Jesus  Himself 
spoke  of  the  Scribes  of  the  kingdom  as  ‘  bringing  forth  out  of  their 
treasure  things  new  and  old  ;  ’  and  laid  it  down  as  a  first  principle 
of  His  kingdom  that  He  was  ‘not  come  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil.’1 
While  with  surprising  and  commanding  clearness  He  centres  men 
upon  Himself,  and  distinguishes  Himself  from  all  who  came  before 
Him,  from  ‘the  prophets  and  the  law  which  prophesied  until 
John;’  He  yet  with  evident  care  draws  the  new  out  of  the  old, 
and  fits  it  on  to  the  old;  He  delineates  His  own  mission  as  a 
climax  in  a  long  appeal  of  God  to  Israel,2  and  the  opposition  to 
Him  and  His,  as  a  chapter  of  denouement  in  the  history  of  an  old 
conflict  between  God  and  the  ungodly.3  He  sees  a  ‘  necessity  ’ 
for  the  happening  of  things  to  fulfil  what  had  been  said  of  old.4 
The  very  pith  of  the  disciples’  ignorance  is  their  failure  to  see 
how  the  features  of  His  work  and  character  had  been  traced 
beforehand,  and  the  supreme  teaching  which  they  receive  from 
Him  is  that  which  discloses  His  correspondence  to  the  whole 

1  St.  Matt.  xiii.  52  ;  v.  17.  2  St.  Matt.  xxi.  33-38. 

3  St.  Matt.,  v.  12;  xxiii.  30-37.  4  St.  Mark  xiv.  49;  St.  Luke  xxii.  37. 


1 10 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

tenor  of  the  Scriptures  of  the  past.1  The  teaching  of  the  x^postles, 
and  of  those  who  followed  them,  is  faithful  to  these  lines.  Though 
they  have  to  convince  the  world  of  an  Event  which  works  a  revo¬ 
lution,  which  is  to  turn  men  from  darkness  ter  light ;  though  their 
perfect  confidence  in  their  own  truth  makes  them  see  the  things 
that  went  before  as  elements,  ‘  weak  and  beggarly  elements,’ 2  and 
they  have  moreover  battles  to  fight  against  these  4  elements  ’  set  up 
again  as  antagonists  ;  though  their  adherence  to  the  Old  Testament 
was  an  ever-fruitful  source  of  difficulty  and  attack  (of  which 
Judaizing  and  Gnostic  controversies  are  the  record),  —  yet  never¬ 
theless  they  unswervingly  maintained  the  inspiration  of  the  Old 
Testament,  and  stood  upon  it ;  and  we  distinguish  without  hesita¬ 
tion  as  their  normal,  primary,  characteristic  method  that  of  appeal 
to  the  correspondence  between  their  Gospel  and  every  hope  and 
word  of  Israel’s  faith  :  the  4  revelation  of  the  mystery  .  .  .  is  .  .  . 
by  the  scriptures  of  the  prophets  .  .  .  made  known  to  all  nations.’ 3 
The  Hebrews,  who  wistfully  look  back  to  their  temple,  law,  and 
ritual,  are  not  taught  a  stern  forgetfulness  of  what  had  been,  nor 
led  vaguely  to  spiritualize  its  meaning,  but  are  led  to  recognize  in 
each  part  of  the  ancient  system  a  line  which  leads  up  to  Christ. 
Finally,  the  disciple  who  sets  the  true  being  of  his  Master  in 
monumental  and  awful  splendor  as  the  Word  Who  4  was  with  God 
and  was  God  ’  now  made  manifest  in  the  flesh,  in  the  same  breath 
carries  us  to  the  very  core  and  source  of  all  that  can  be  implied  in 
preparation  by  declaring  the  same  Word  to  have  been  4  in  the 
world  ’  before,  to  have  been  the  author  of  all  things,  and  the 
unseen  light  of  men.4 

The  relation  of  Christ  to  history,  or  the  preparation  for  the 
Gospel,  is  then  no  afterthought  of  our  own  or  any  recent  time. 
It  was  Augustine’s  saying  that  Christianity  was  as  old  as  the 
world : 5  and  Tertullian’s  (one  of  almost  venturesome  boldness) 
that  in  the  previous  history  Christ  was  schooling  Himself  for 
incarnation.6  But  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  that  our  own  time  is 
one  which  is  specially  fitted  to  appreciate  and  handle  this  aspect 
of  the  Christian  truth.  Our  cultivation  of  the  historical  method, 

1  St.  Luke  xxiv.  25,  26,  44. 

2  Gal.  iv.  9. 

3  Rom.  xvi.  26.  So  the  pages  of  the  early  apologists  are,  to  our  feeling, 
almost  cumbered  by  the  profuseness  of  their  appeal  to  these  Scriptures. 

4  St.  John  i.  1,  14,  9,  10. 

5  Ep.  cii.  12. 

6  De  Carne  Christi  vi.  Eum  Christum  qui  jam  tunc  et  adloqui  .  .  .  hu- 
manum  genus  ediscebat  in  carnis  habitu:  cp.  adv.  Prax.  xvi.  ediscebat  Deus 
in  terris  cum  hominibus  conversari. 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ. 


1 1 1 


our  historical  realism  or  sense  of  the  relation  of  persons  or  events 
to  historical  setting,  our  recognition  of  the  part  played  in  forming 
structure,  function,  character,  by  gradual  process,  by  heredity,  by 
evolution,  our  developed  understanding  of  the  links  by  which  the 
parts  and  successions  in  all  nature,  and  not  least  in  what  is  human, 
are  bound  together,  —  all  these  go  to  form  a  habit  of  mind  which 
in  presence  of  such  a  Revelation  as  that  of  the  Gospel  will  at  once 
busy  itself,  whether  for  satisfaction,  for  edification,  for  controversy, 
or  for  interpretation,  with  the  relation  of  the  Truth  to  the  world 
into  which  it  came,  to  all  from  amongst  which  it  sprung.  In  such 
a  time  it  is  natural  that  attack  should  try  to  show  that  facts  which 
historical  criticism  has  done  much  to  secure,  and  a  Life  which  it 
has  become  impossible  to  treat  as  a  myth,  are  simply  explicable 
according  to  the  natural  laws  of  historical  causation.  It  is  natural 
that  Christianity  should  be  explained  as  the  flower  and  bloom  of 
Judaism,  or  as  sprung  from  the  fusion  of  Greek  and  Jewish  influ¬ 
ences  in  a  Galilean  medium.  Such  explanations  may  not  be  new, 
but  they  are  urged  with  new  resources  and  a  more  subtle  inge¬ 
nuity.  They  have  the  advantage  of  being  the  sort  of  explanations 
which  are  naturally  most  congenial  to  the  time.  But  out  of  the 
very  stress  of  such  attacks  may  come  a  special  corroboration  of 
Christian  truth.  The  experiment  is  crucial :  it  can  hardly  be 
expected  that  attack  of  this  kind  can  ever  command  greater  skill 
and  resource  than  it  does  at  present.  If  therefore  it  should  be 
proved  to  fail ;  if  we  are  able  to  look  men  in  the  face  and  ask 
whether,  when  all  allowance  is  made  for  the  subtle  ‘  chemistries  * 
of  history  and  for  the  paradoxical  way  in  which  historical  results 
spring  from  what  precedes  them,  it  is  possible  to  think  that  Jesus 
Christ  and  His  religion  were  a  mere  growth  from  antecedents,  — 
then  we  have  here  the  prospect  of  such  a  confirmation  of  faith  as 
no  age  less  historically  scientific  could,  in  that  kind,  give  and 
receive. 

But  this  negative  result,  great  as  its  value  may  be,  can  only  be 
part  of  what  Christian  science  may  yield  in  this  sphere  for  the 
elucidation  and  support  of  faith.  It  should  surely  be  able  to 
display  with  greater  breadth  and  delicacy  than  ever  before  that 
correspondence  between  the  Revelation  of  Christ  and  what  went 
before  it,  which  was  of  old  indicated  by  saying  that  Christ  came 
in  the  ‘  fulness  of  the  timed  It  should  be  able  to  enhance,  and 
not  (as  men  fear)  to  impair,  the  evidence  of  a  Divine  presence 
and  influence,  preparing  for  that  which  was  to  come,  moulding 
the  plastic  material  of  history  for  a  ‘far-off  Divine  event.*  It  may 
seem  as  if  this  was  not  so.  It  may  seem,  for  example,  as  if  the 


1 1 2  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

severity  and  activity  of  historical  and  linguistic  criticism  had 
dimmed  the  clearness  of  those  correspondences  between  prophetic 
utterances  spoken  centuries  before  Christ  and  the  points  in  Him 
or  His  work  whereby  they  were  fulfilled,  which  were  once  so  clear. 
It  may  seem,  it  is  evidently  true,  that  stricter  canons  of  interpreta¬ 
tion  forbid  for  us  that  unbounded  use  of  the  happy  expedient  of 
allegory  which  could  make  everything  in  the  Old  Testament  speak 
of  Christ.  But  even  if  this  were  so  (and  with  regard  to  prophecies 
we  only  partially  grant  it),  is  there  no  countervailing  gain  to 
reckon  ?  The  hand  of  God  may  be  seen  in  what  is  marvellous, 
startling,  exceptional,  unexplained.  Can  it  not  be  seen  as  dis¬ 
tinctly  and  as  persuasively  in  what  is  orderly,  steadfast,  intelligible, 
and  where  our  reason,  made  in  God’s  likeness,  can  follow  along  in 
some  degree  with  the  how  and  the  why  of  His  working?  It  was 
Christ’s  will  to  give  special  signs,  yet  the  curiosity  which  ‘  sought 
after  a  sign  ’  was  not  honored  by  Christ  like  that  wisdom  which 
‘  discerned  the  signs  of  the  times,’  and  so  could  see  the  force  of 
the  special  signs  that  were  given  because  it  saw  them  in  their  true 
moral  and  spiritual  context.1  Have  we  any  reason  to  hope  that 
our  time  may  be  suffered  to  do  (and  even  be  doing)  something 
for  the  interpretation  of  the  witness  of  history  to  Christ  which  has 
not  been  done  before,  and  which  is  even  an  advance  upon  what 
has  been  done?  Let  us  consider  for  a  moment  (in  order  to 
answer  this  question)  what  it  is  which  specially  engrosses  the 
interest  and  admiration  of  all  of  us  in  the  different  branches  of 
modern  study  and  inquiry.  It  is  the  beauty  of  process.  The 
practical  men  among  us  watch  process  in  its  mechanical  forms  as 
contrived  by  invention.  The  naturalists  and  the  men  of  science 
have  to  an  extraordinary  extent  developed  our  perception  of  it  in 
nature  ;  they  show  us  its  range,  and  its  incredible  delicacy,  flexi¬ 
bility,  and  intricacy ;  they  show  us  its  enormous  patience  in  the 
unceasing  yet  age-long  movements  which  by  microscopic  or  less 
than  microscopic  changes  accumulate  the  coal,  or  lessen  the 
mountain ;  they  show  us  the  wonderful  power  of  adaptation  by 
which  it  accommodates  itself  to  surroundings,  and  appropriates 
and  transforms  them  to  its  need.  The  embryologist  develops  its 
wonders  as  it  makes  1  the  bones  to  grow  in  the  womb  of  her  that 
is  with  child.’  And  the  historians  in  their  sphere  do  the  like  :  it 
is  for  them,  if  not  the  beginning  and  end  of  their  work,  at  least 
the  most  powerful  of  their  methods,  to  show  the  processes  by 
which  institutions,  customs,  opinions,  rise  and  decline  ;  to  arrange 


1  St.  Matt.  xi.  4,  5  ;  xii.  39  ;  xvi.  3. 


Iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ.  1 1 3 

the  facts  so  as  to  display  on  their  chart  the  steps  of  growth,  the 
stages  of  decay ;  to  show  influences  blending  to  form  events,  and 
parting  again  to  destroy  or  re-shape  them. 

There  is  beauty  in  all  this,  more  than  we  can,  perhaps,  alto¬ 
gether  analyze  or  explain.  As  living  beings  we  sympathize  with 
the  life  and  movement  of  it  all  (or,  as  in  the  case  of  intricate 
machinery,  with  the  imitation  of  life)  compared  with  what  stands 
stark,  solid,  unchanging ;  as  intelligent  beings  we  revel  and  delight 
in  its  intricacy,  and,  further,  we  are  gratified  by  the  way  in  which 
it  subdues  with  explanation  what  would  be  anomalous,  abrupt, 
motiveless,  in  the  way  of  change  or  event.  It  gives  us  something 
like  the  pleasure  which  we  take  in  the  beauty  of  the  exquisite 
subtle  curves  and  shaded  surfaces  of  a  Raphael  figure  compared 
with  the  rough  outline  of  a  Dtirer  woodcut.  But  we  could  not 
long  rest  in  the  admiration  of  mere  process,  whether  delicate  or 
colossal.  There  is  a  rational  element  present  in,  or  controlling, 
our  sense  of  beauty,  which  asks  whence  and  whither,  which  de¬ 
mands  unity  in  detail ;  and  this  finds  altogether  new  and  delightful 
gratification  when  it  can  see  a  relation,  a  meaning,  a  grouping,  a 
symmetry,  of  which  processes  are  the  ministers  and  instruments. 

It  is,  then,  this  idea  of  beauty  in  process  that  we  bring  with  us 
as  we  approach  to  behold  the  facts  and  method  of  God’s  Redemp¬ 
tive  Work.  It  is  altogether  too  strong  in  us  to  be  left  behind  as 
we  cross  the  threshold  of  this  region  ;  it  is  too  much  connected 
with  all  our  thinking  and  experience.  It  is  very  possible  that 
there  may  be  exaggeration  about  it  in  us  :  and  it  is  indispensable 
for  us  to  recognize  this,  Me  defaut  de  notre  qualite.’  But  all  the 
same  we  cannot  disown,  though  we  must  control,  what  is  so 
specially  our  own.  And  if  our  love  of  process  is  prepared  to  be 
critical,  it  is  also  prepared  to  be  gratified  :  and  there  is  opened  a 
prospect  of  fresh  witness  to  the  truth  of  the  unchanging  Gospel, 
if  it  should  be  found  that  its  introduction  into  this  world  is  ushered 
in  by  all  the  beauty  of  process,  with  all  the  grandeur  of  slow 
unhasting  preparation,  the  surprises  of  gradual  transformation,  the 
delicacies  of  combination,  which  process  allows. 

Such  a  sight  is  much  more  than  wonderful,  and  has  in  it,  if  our 
ideas  of  what  is  Divine  are  not  very  narrow,  much  more  evidence 
of  God’s  hand  than  any  mere  wonder  can  have.  But  it  is  as 
wonderful  as  anything  can  be.  And  if  we  still  plead  that  our  sense 
of  wonder  stipulates  for  exceptionalness,  it  has  its  own  way  of  satis¬ 
fying  this,  — the  way  of  uniqueness.  For  those  features  which  we 
admire  in  process  are  capable,  if  combined  with  a  certain  degree 
of  grandeur,  completeness,  and  particularity,  of  conveying  to  us  the 

8 


1 14  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

impression  of  a  unique  thing.  We  may  dismiss  as  a  dialectical 
refinement  the  objection  which  has  been  made  that,  as  is  doubtless 
true,  *  everything  is  unique.’  None  the  less,  there  is  a  meaning 
in  our  ordinary  language  when  it  applies  the  epithet  ‘  unique  ’  to 
certain  persons,  classes,  or  things.  A  man  of  science  may  prop¬ 
erly  speak  of  a  certain  uniqueness  in  the  way  in  which  natural 
conditions  are  combined  so  as  to  make  life  possible ;  a  historian 
will  certainly  miss  truth  if  he  does  not  recognize  a  special  unique¬ 
ness  in  certain  historical  epoch-making  moments.  Jn  propor¬ 
tion  as  we  believe  in  Mind  ordering  the  things  of  nature  and 
history,  such  uniqueness  will  have  speaking  significance.  And  as 
uniqueness  has  its  degrees,  and  rises  according  to  the  scale, 
quantity,  character,  and  completeness  of  that  which  goes  to  make 
it  up,  so  its  significance  will  rise  proportionately,  until  at  last, 
arriving  at  uniqueness,  which  seems  to  us  absolute,  we  gain  evi¬ 
dence  that  there  is  before  us  a  Supreme  Thing,  a  true  centre  to 
the  world.  The  evidence  is  not  indeed  demonstrative,  but  it  is 
in  a  high  degree  corroborative,  and  it  is  the  highest  which  history 
can  offer.  It  is  this  evidence  of  uniqueness  which,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  we  of  the  present  day  may  with  special  fitness  seek,  and  shall 
with  special  welcome  find,  — 

(1)  In  the  shaping  of  world-history  towards  the  Christian  era. 

(2)  In  the  special  preparation  of  the  Jewish  nation. 

Within  the  compass  of  a  paper  like  the  present,  it  is  impossible 
to  do  more  than  indicate  the  lines  which,  even  without  any  high 
degree  of  special  education,  a  Christian’s  thought  may  travel  in 
tracing  the  Divine  work  of  preparation  and  witness. 

I.  Jn  the  first  part  of  our  inquiry  the  distinction  between  an 
outward  and  an  inward  working  suggests  itself  as  convenient, 
though  necessarily  imperfect :  the  one  consisting  in  a  moulding  of 
the  material  facts  of  history,  —  such  as  the  geographical  distribu¬ 
tion  of  peoples,  and  the  political  and  social  order ;  the  other,  in  a 
like  use  of  the  changes  in  thought,  feeling,  and  the  like. 

(1)  It  can  never  be  altogether  too  hackneyed  to  dwell  on  the 
strange  value  to  the  world’s  history  of  the  two  peninsulas  which  we 
know  as  Greece  and  Italy,  thrust  out  into  that  Mediterranean  Sea, 
which  was  itself  so  remarkable  as  a  centre  and  ‘  medium  ’  of  the 
western  world,  binding  its  many  nations  together.  They  share 
with  other  lands  of  the  temperate  zone  all  its  possibilities  of  hardy 
and  vigorous  life  ;  but,  besides  this,  their  sky  and  sea,  their  con¬ 
veniences  and  difficulties,  had  a  special  stimulus  to  give  to  their 
early  inhabitants.  They  were  extraordinarily  well  suited  to  be  the 
seed-plots  of  civilization.  And  these  seed-plots  were  aptly  fertil- 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ.  1 1 5 

ized,  first  by  the  Phoenicians,  — -  those  carrier-birds  of  antiquity, 
dropping  seed  along  the  Mediterranean  coasts,  —  and  then  by  the 
happy  contact  between  Greece  and  the  other  Greece  opposite,  to 
which  the  island  bridges  of  the  /Egsean  linked  it,  where,  on  the 
narrow  strip  of  coast  plain  and  rich  river  valley  between  the  sea 
and  the  high  plateaus  of  Asia  Minor,  the  Ionians  enjoyed,  as 
Herodotus  says,1  the  fairest  climate  in  the  world.  Upon  this 
debouched,  with  the  rivers  from  the  interior,  the  highways  along 
which  travelled  westward  the  civilization  or  the  power  of  the  dimly 
known  but  highly  important  early  Phrygian  monarchy,  or  from  yet 
farther  east,  of  the  mighty  Assyria.  The  recent  discoveries  of  Pro¬ 
fessor  Ramsay  and  others  re-interpret  and  emphasize  to  us  this 
early  connection  between  the  Asian  lands  and  Greece  in  Europe, 
of  which  the  Lion  Gate  of  Mycenae  is  a  monument.  What  Greece 
thus  took  with  her  left  hand  she  could  pass  across  with  her  right  to 
yet  another  Greece  - — ■ ‘  Great  Greece  ’  —  in  Sicily  and  Southern 
Italy.  But  we  may  easily  fail  to  recognize  how  much  all  this  deli¬ 
cate  and  tender  growth  depended  on  favorable  circumstance,  and 
we  cannot  too  carefully  mark  how  space  was  made  awhile  for  it  to 
spring.  The  4  hills  stood  about  ’  both  peninsulas  on  the  North 
to  shelter  them  from  intrusion  ;  but  this  barrier,  sufficient  for  ordi¬ 
nary  times,  would  hardly  have  resisted  the  heavy  thrust  of  the 
later  pressure  of  population  from  the  East  and  Northeast,  which, 
when  it  did  begin,  so  nearly  crushed  Rome,  and  which,  if  it  had 
come  earlier,  might  have  easily  stifled  Greek  and  Roman  civiliza¬ 
tion  in  the  cradle.  The  reader  of  the  Persian  wars  will  watch 
almost  with  awe  within  how  little  Greece  came  of  what  appeared 
alike  to  Asiatic  and  Greek  a  certain  subjection  to  the  Persian.  A 
difference  of  twenty  years  earlier,  the  chance  of  a  different  temper 
in  the  little  Athenian  people,  the  use  by  Darius  of  the  methods  of 
Xerxes,  would,  humanly  speaking,  have  decided  the  other  way  the 
fate  of  western  civilization.  It  is  easier  again  to  admire  than  to 
explain  the  happy  fortune  which  brought  the  mountain  kingdom  of 
Macedon  to  its  moment  of  aggression  just  too  late  to  hurt  the 
flowering  and  fruitage  of  Greece,  just  in  time  to  carry  its  seed 
broadcast  over  Eastern,  Syrian,  and  Egyptian  lands.  From  all  the 
sequence  of  the  Graeco-Roman  history  which  follows,  and  in  which 
nothing  is  more  important  to  all  the  purposes  of  Providence  than 
the  simple  fact  of  the  order  of  these  two,  —  Greek  first,  Roman  sec¬ 
ond,  — ■  we  can  here  select  only  one  feature  of  capital  importance, 
viz.,  the  transformation  of  a  world  intensely  localized  and  sub- 


1  Hdt.,  i.  142. 


II 6  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

divided  into  one  as  singularly  united  and  homogeneous.  Follow 
St.  Paul  and  see  his  circuits,  watch  him  claiming  the  safeguard  of 
the  same  Roman  citizenship  in  the  Macedonian  town  and  in  the 
capital  of  Palestine,  laying  hold  at  Caesarea  on  the  horns  of  a  cen¬ 
tral  tribunal  of  Justice  at  Rome,  borne  thither  by  the  sails  of  the 
carrying  trade  in  the  ‘  ship  of  Alexandria,’  meditating  a  journey 
into  Spain,  numbering  among  his  Roman  converts,  as  seems  prob¬ 
able,  one  who  had  a  direct  connection  with  Roman  Britain,  writing 
in  the  same  Greek  to  Rome  and  to  the  highlanders  of  Galatia, 
never  crossed  in  his  journeys  by  any  track  of  war,  never  stopped 
by  any  challenge  of  frontier  or  custom-house  :  these  are  so  many 
object-lessons  to  show  what  the  4  Pax  Romana  *  and  the  Roman 
unity  of  power  and  organization  imported  for  the  growth  of  a 
world-religion.  This  was  the  time  when  it  could  be  complained 
that  it  was  impossible  to  flee  from  the  Caesar’s  wrath,  because  the 
Caesar  owned  the  world.  And  to  make  the  impression  more  dis¬ 
tinct,  let  the  eye  travel  backward  a  little,  or  forward  a  little  :  back¬ 
ward  into  the  second  or  even  the  first  century  b.  c.,  when  this 
same  Mediterranean  world  was  still  in  greater  part  an  unconsoli¬ 
dated  chaos  of  political  debris ;  when  the  tumult  of  the  Macedonian 
and  Syrian  wars  of  Rome  and  then  of  her  desolating  civil  strife 
filled  the  world  with  noise  and  occupied  its  thought  and  destroyed 
its  peace  ;  when  the  sea  was  impassable  because  of  pirates,  and 
when  the  West  was  still  in  great  part  unsubdued  and  formidable 
barbarism  ;  or  forward,  across  the  space  during  which  the  Gospel 
had  spread  its  influence  and  struck  its  roots  and  won  its  power,  to 
the  time  so  soon  following,  when  the  lands  that  had  known  no  war 
were  again  traversed  by  the  armies  of  rival  emperors,  and  the  bar¬ 
barians  began  to  dismember  the  West,  and  the  gloom  of  a  great 
fear  preoccupied  men’s  hearts.  To  say  nothing  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  what  unity  of  the  Mediterranean  world  and  the  lands  affili¬ 
ated  to  it  has  the  whole  of  later  history  got  to  show  that  can  com¬ 
pare  for  a  moment  with  the  unity  of  the  early  Empire,  focussed  in 
its  cosmopolitan  capital,  Rome? 

And  in  this  there  is  much  more  than  a  mechanical  provision  for 
the  progress  of  a  world-religion.  It  is  not  merely  that  its  heralds 
find  a  complete  facility  of  communication,  peaceful  conditions, 
and  a  ‘  lingua  franca  ’  ready  for  their  use.  We  must  realize  how 
the  unity  had  been  obtained.  It  had  been  by  pulverizing  separate 
nationalities,  separate  patriotisms,  separate  religions  ;  by  destroy¬ 
ing  or  leaving  only  in  a  municipal  form  the  centres  round  which 
human  energy  and  loyalty  had  been  wont  to  gather.  Thus  the 
world  had  been  turned  into  that  ‘  cold  and  icy  plain  ’  of  which  M. 


IV.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ .  1 1 7 

Renan  speaks.  And  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  this  process 
had  destroyed  just  so  many  barriers  to  the  entrance  of  Christianity. 
We  have  only  to  realize  what  had  been  previously  the  universal 
character  of  the  worships  of  the  western  world,  viz.,  that  they  had 
been  local,  the  common  and  exclusive  possession  of  the  citizens  of 
one  place  or  state,  and  inextricably  bound  up  with  the  being  and 
welfare  of  that  particular  community.  Such  religions,  and  people 
bred  under  them,  would  have  met  Christianity,  not  so  much  with 
criticism  of  its  doctrines,  or  with  rival  doctrines  of  their  own,  as 
with  ideas  and  a  frame  of  mind  so  alien  to  a  spiritual  and  universal 
religion  like  the  Gospel  that  it  would  have  found  no  foothold  in 
attacking  them.  Conceive  the  force  with  which  what  even  in  the 
second  century  after  Christ  the  heathen  objector  urged,  ‘  It  is 
not  creditable  to  alter  the  customs  handed  down  to  us  from  our 
fathers,’  1  would  have  come  from  the  Roman  of  the  earlier  Repub¬ 
lic,  or  the  Greek  of  the  times  of  freedom.  Nay,  we  may  without 
rashness  hazard  the  conjecture  that  had  it  been  possible  for  the 
Gospel  to  overcome  these  conditions  it  would  have  done  so  prema¬ 
turely  and  with  loss  ;  that  they  were  in  their  time  and  place  minis¬ 
ters  of  good ;  that  they  were  bound  up  with  that  vigorous  energy 
of  development  within  one  small  limited  horizon,  by  which,  as 
we  shall  see,  the  preparation  of  the  heathen  world  was  carried 
out. 

It  was  the  negative  aid  of  the  Empire  to  Christianity  that  it 
destroyed  these.  But  it  lent  more  positive  help.  It  created  a 
demand,  or  at  least  a  need,  for  a  universal  religion.  Of  this 
there  are  several  proofs.  The  religious  phenomena  of  the  time 
other  than  Christianity  supply  the  first.  There  is  an  attempt,  or 
more  than  one  attempt,  to  provide  such  a  religion.  There  is  the 
attempt  by  way  of  comprehension,  of  making  all  the  gods  live 
together  as  joint  inhabitants  of  a  common  Pantheon.  There  is  the 
attempt  by  way  of  construction,  in  the  worship  of  the  one  Power 
about  which  there  was  no  doubt,  the  Goddess  Rome,  and  of  the 
Emperor,  her  deified  representative.  There  is  also,  we  may  perhaps 
add,  the  attempt  by  way  of  philosophic  thought.  For  philosophy 
at  this  time  had  a  religious  bent  which  increased  not  improbably 
as  the  circulation  of  Christian  thought  stole  unknown  through  the 
veins  of  society  ;  and  it  felt  after  the  One  Being  whose  Personal 
existence  and  Fatherhood  it  waveringly  discerned,  but  whom  yet 
it  could  not  steadily  distinguish  from  a  personified  order  of  nature. 
Such  a  religious  idea,  needed  to  complete  Cicero’s  commonwealth 


1  Clem.  Alex.,  Protrept.,  cx.  in  it. 


1 1 8  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

of  the  Universe  comprehending  gods  and  men,  may  be  seen  with 
increasing  clearness  in  Seneca,  Epictetus,  and  Aurelius.  The  need 
of  a  universal  religion  is  thus  directly  shown.  But  other  proofs,  as 
clear  though  less  direct,  are  to  be  drawn  from  the  other  depart¬ 
ments  of  human  thought.  For  literature  was  already  a  unity,  into 
which  whatever  the  genius  of  provincials  like  Lucan,  or  Seneca, 
or  Pliny  contributed  was  gathered  up.  And  it  is  a  commonplace 
that  the  greatest  constructive  result  of  the  imperial  period  was  the 
creation  or  development  of  a  universal  code  of  law. 

(2)  In  what  has  been  last  said  we  have  almost  crossed  the  ima¬ 
ginary  line  by  which  we  were  to  divide  the  preparation  in  external 
fact  from  that  which  was  more  inward  in  thought  and  feeling.  To 
deal  with  this  latter  may  seem  almost  ridiculous ;  since  to  do  so 
must  involve  the  presumption  of  summarizing  in  a  few  lines  the 
drift  of  the  literature  and  thought  of  antiquity.  Yet,  in  the  briefest 
words,  it  may  be  possible  to  suggest  a  few  true  outlines  of  the 
shape  which  an  account  of  that  drift  should  take.  It  would  cer¬ 
tainly  represent  the  mental  history  of  the  classical  world  in  its  rela¬ 
tion  to  the  Gospel  as  supplying  a  double  preparation,  positive  and 
negative,  —  a  positive  preparation  by  involving  ideas  which  the  Gos¬ 
pel  could  work  into  its  own  fabric,  or  a  frame  of  mind  which  would 
make  for  it  a  suitable  ‘  nidus  '  and  a  receptive  soil ;  a  negative 
preparation  by  the  breakdown  of  human  nature’s  own  constructive 
and  speculative  efforts,  and  by  the  room  thus  left  for  a  revelation 
which  would  unite  the  broken  and  useless  fragments  of  thought 
and  minister  to  unsatisfied  needs.  And  of  these  the  negative 
seems  the  more  predominant  and  the  more  direct.  In  so  saying 
we  are  guided  by  what  appears  to  be  the  teaching  of  the  New 
Testament.  It  seems  as  though  the  main  upshot  of  that  time  was, 
and  was  meant  to  be,  the  failure  of  the  world  ‘  by  wisdom  ’  1  to  find 
the  truth ;  though  when  this  has  been  recognized  and  acknowl¬ 
edged,  then  the  world  might  find,  as  we  may  find,  that  all  the 
while  in  this  unattaining  and  abortive  thought  God  had  put 
impulses  from  His  own  wisdom,  and  prepared  materials  for  His 
own  coming  work.  It  is  the  typical  history  of  the  ‘  natural  man  ;  ’ 
and  though  what  is  primary  and  indispensable  is  that  the  natural 
man  should  learn  the  poverty  and  misery  of  his  own  state,  and  be 
ready  to  die  to  his  life,  yet  the  natural  man  too  is  the  true  though 
perverted  work  of  God,  and  in  his  thoughts  and  instincts,  ♦his 
emotions  and  speculations,  must  be  found  a  witness  to  which  the 
revelation  will  appeal,  and  a  response  which  it  will  elicit.  It  is 


1  1  Cor.  i.  21. 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ.  119 

impossible  not  to  follow  the  track  so  suggested,  and  to  see  in  the 
early  stages  of  Greek  life  the  lusty  youth-time  of  the  natural  man. 
Casting  off  the  bright  and  truthful  simplicity,  and  the  happy  story¬ 
telling  of  its  childhood,  it  begins  (we  speak  of  the  times  between 
600  and  450  B.  c.)  to  try  its  young  energies  upon  the  problems  of 
the  world;  it  suggests  its  explanations,  quick,  ingenious,  one-sided, 
chansins:,  of  how  the  world  came  to  be  :  4  it  came  from  water,’ 
4  from  air,’  4 from  fire  ;  ’  ‘  it  came  from  the  dance  of  atoms  ;  ’  ‘  nay, 
but  these  give  us  only  the  how  ;  it  came  from  something  more  than 
these,  it  came  from  mind  ;  ’  4  are  you  sure  what  it  is  ?  fix  upon  any 
part  of  it,  and  you  will  find  it  slip  through  your  fingers,  for  all  is 
change,  and  change  is  all  we  know  :  ’  these  are  the  quick  premieres 
ebauches  of  its  young  speculation.  But  already  there  is  a  sound  of 
alarm  in  the  air.  That  challenge  asking  whether  there  was  an  ‘  it  ’ 
at  all ;  and  if  so,  whether  by  parity  of  cavil  there  was  any  solidity 
in  the  other  assumptions  of  thought,  in  4  good  ’  and  ‘  evil,’  4  truth  * 
and  4  falsehood,’  4  beauty  ’  and  4  ugliness  ;  ’  or  at  least  anything 
beyond  such  mere  relative  and  convenient  meaning  as  there  is  in 
4  big  ’  or  4  little,’  4  thick  ’  or 4  thin/  4  wet  ’  or 4  dry,’ —  this  sobers  men. 
Thought  feels  its  own  dangers.  It  must  try  its  hand  more  seriously 
at  some  true  constructive  work ;  and  so  there  follows  that  great 
period  in  which,  steadied  by  the  strong  grip  and  sharp  discipline  of 
the  great  prophet  of  natural  conscience  and  natural  instinct,  Socra¬ 
tes,  it  addresses  itself  to  its  great  task  of  wringing  her  secret  from 
the  world.  It  is  done  and  necessarily  done  in  the  sheer  self- 
reliance  of  the  unaided  mind,  yet  of  the  mind  in  the  fullest  sense  of 
the  word ;  not  the  mere  critical  understanding,  but  the  whole  spir¬ 
itual  and  rational  energy  of  the  man,  not  disowning  its  depen¬ 
dence  on  a  discipline  of  character  and  a  severe  and  painful  training 
of  its  own  powers.  The  results,  so  splendid  and  yet  so  inadequate, 
so  rich  in  great  intuitions  and  suggestions,  so  patient  and  success¬ 
ful  in  much  of  its  detail,  is  preserved  to  us  in  the  work  of  Plato  and 
Aristotle.  Christian  thought  can  never  be  interested  in  disparaging 
that  work  ;  Christian  thinkers  at  different  times  have  done  special 
honor  to  different  aspects  of  it ;  and  the  position  of  Aristotle  in  the 
works  of  Dante,  and  of  Aquinas,  and  in  the  frescoes  of  the  Spanish 
chapel,  is  the  sign  of  the  ungrudged  admiration  given  by  what  in 
our  modern  way  we  might  regard  as  among  the  least  appreciative 
and  discriminating  of  Christian  times.  But  the  most  ungrudging 
admiration  cannot  prevent  our  seeing,  and  history  compels  us  to 
see,  what  it  lacked.  It  lacked  a  foundation  upon  a  Rock.  It  had 
the  certainty,  if  certainty  at  all,  which  belongs  to  profound  intui¬ 
tions  and  to  a  wide  interpretation  of  experience,  not  that  which 


120  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

makes  a  definite,  settled,  and,  above  all,  communicable  conviction. 
All  the  while  narrower,  pettier,  more  captious,  or  more  ordinary 
minds  had  been  asking  ''what  is  truth’  in  a  very  different  spirit; 
had  displayed  the  independence  and  captiousness  of  youth,  and  not 
its  hopeful  and  trustful  creativeness.  And  more  and  more  this 
lower  element  began  to  prevail.  When  it  became  a  question,  not 
of  projecting  systems  which  should  impress  and  absorb  the  higher 
minds  of  a  few  generations,  but  of  providing  that  which  should  pass 
on  with  men,  the  common  run  of  men,  into  the  advancing  years, 
and  stand  the  strain  of  the  world’s  middle  life ;  then  it  was  found 
that  the  human  mind  unaided  was  more  powerful  to  destroy  than 
to  build  or  to  maintain.  The  dark  horse  of  Plato’s  chariot  pulled 
down  his  fellow ;  in  the  unaided  human  understanding  the  critical 
faculty  proved  stronger  than  the  constructive  ;  without  the  point  of 
attachment  in  a  central  truth  to  which  men’s  high  thoughts  could 
reach  and  cling,  or  (to  change  the  figure)  without  a  clearly  dis¬ 
closed  goal  of  truth  towards  which  they  could  be  seen  to  tend  and 
converge,  they  could  not  maintain  or  justify  themselves  ;  ‘  the  car¬ 
nal  mind  ’  was  against  them  and  unworthy  of  them  ;  as  regards  any 
real  adoption  of  them  by  mankind  for  fruitful  and  trustworthy  con¬ 
victions,  they  passed  away,  according  to  that  law  of  which  the 
modern  poet  speaks  :  — 

‘  Eternal  hopes  are  man’s, 

Which  when  they  should  maintain  themselves  aloft 
Want  due  consistence :  like  a  pillar  of  smoke, 

That  with  majestic  energy  from  earth 
Rises,  but,  having  reached  the  thinner  air, 

Melts  and  dissolves,  and  is  no  longer  seen.’ 1 

We  shall  not  be  wrong  in  saying  that  the  course  of  philosophy 
after  Aristotle  displayed  increasingly  the  collapse  of  the  experiment 
of  speculative  self-reliance.  Scepticism  was  not  confined  to  the 
‘  Sceptics,’  nor  even  shared  only  by  the  Epicureans  ;  it  deeply 
underlay  the  philosophy  of  the  Stoics.  But  as  with  advancing 
life  men,  baffled  in  their  early  sanguineness,  fall  back  (both  for 
good  and  evil)  and  content  themselves  with  the  energies  of  prac¬ 
tical  life,  so  the  mind  of  that  day,  baffled  and  despairing  of  the 
speculative  problem,  did  not  abandon,  but  transferred,  its  self- 
reliance  ;  men  threw  themselves  with  a  sort  of  defiance  into  the 
organization  of  conduct ;  ‘  imperturbableness  ’  and  1  self-sufficiency  ’ 
became  watchwords  of  their  thought.2  This  is  the  character  of 
Stoicism ;  this  explains  its  vogue  and  wide  indirect  influence ;  its 


1  Wordsworth,  Excursion,  iv. 


2  ’At apa^la  (Epicurean)  :  avrapKeia. 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ .  12 1 

curious  likeness  to  its  apparently  quite  alien  contemporary,  Epicu¬ 
reanism,  in  a  common  cultivation  of  self-sufficingness  ;  and,  finally, 
its  ready  alliance  with  the  natural  tendencies  of  Roman  character 
when  it  passed  from  Greece  to  Rome. 

Here  again  was  a  great  experiment,  which  had  no  mean  success. 
We  admire  almost  with  awe  its  unsparing  thoroughness,  its  austerity, 
its  unworldliness,  its  courage,  its  endurance.  In  its  later  forms, 
when  some  power  has  touched  it  with  gentleness,  we  yield  it  even  a 
warmer  and  tenderer  admiration.  Only  what  we  cannot  do  is  to 
disguise  its  failure  as  a  great  spiritual  experiment.  We  cannot  for¬ 
get  how  it  left  the  mass  of  men  untouched,  how  it  concentrated 
strength  by  what  it  neglected  of  human  sympathy  and  effort,  how 
it  revealed  a  disease  and  palsy  of  human  nature  which  it  could  not 
cure,  how  at  its  heart  it  had  no  certainty  of  conviction  to  give 
peace  and  to  resist  the  forces  of  decay.  Humanity  will  never, 
perhaps,  wind  itself  higher.  But  it  was  a  height  on  which  human 
strength  is  insufficient  to  stand.  There  lacked  a  sure  word  of 
truth  ;  the  joy  and  fruitfulness  of  an  inspiration  ;  a  grace  which 
could  minister  to  the  weakness,  as  well  as  summon  the  forces,  of 
human  nature.  We  cannot  be  blind  to  its  failure  unless  we  share 
it ;  unless,  that  is,  we  are  trying  to  satisfy  ourselves  by  some  philo¬ 
sophy  of  life  which  misses  its  secrets,  has  no  key  to  many  of  its 
problems,  and  at  heart  despairs  of  its  solution.  The  experiment 
of  moral  self-reliance,  then,  failed  in  its  turn. 

But  we  spoke  of  a  positive  as  well  as  a  negative  upshot  to  all 
this  Gentile  history  ;  a  positive  contribution  to  the  preparation  for 
Christ.  Where  shall  we  look  for  this?  Surely  alongside  of,  and 
in  the  same  plane  with,  the  failures.  If  one  chief  result  of  the 
history  of  the  ancient  world  was  to  exhibit  the  insufficiency  of 
man’s  efforts  to  find  truth  and  righteousness  and  life,  this  must 
be  completely  shown  in  proportion  as  the  efforts  were  noble,  and 
therefore  in  proportion  as  they  realized  (though,  at  the  moment, 
only  for  disappointment)  the  capacities,  the  possibilities,  the  true 
desires  and  ideals  of  man.  If  man  the  race,  like  man  the  indi¬ 
vidual,  was  finally  to  find  salvation  by  dying  to  himself,  to  his  own 
natural  man,  he  could  only  do  this  when  it  had  been  adequately 
and  magnificently  proved  both  that  he  could  not  save  himself,  and 
how  splendidly  worth  saving  he  was.  He  must  do  his  best,  that 
he  may  despair  of  his  best.  Do  we  not  feel  that  this  is  just  what 
was  worked  out  by  the  histories  of  Greece  and  Rome?  They  are 
splendid  experiments  of  human  power.  Diverse  in  their  method, 
they  combine  in  this  result.  In  Greece  the  experiment  is  by  way 
of  spontaneity,  of  free  lively  development,  conditioned  only  by  its 


122 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


own  instincts  of  taste  and  beauty.  And  Rome  represents  the 
alternative  plan  of  seeking  strength  by  discipline,  by  subordination, 
by  distrust  of  novelty,  by  sacrifice  of  individuality  to  the  corporate 
life,  and  of  sentiment  and  opinion  to  the  rule  of  law.  Roth  realize 
deathless  types  of  matured  human  life,  of  its  beauty,  its  brilliant 
graces,  its  dignity,  its  honor,  its  strength.  Perhaps,  according  to 
the  one-sidedness  which  limits  so  severely  the  works  and  lives  of 
men,  it  might  have  been  impossible  that  these  possibilities  of  his 
nature  should  have  been  first  realized  with  the  same  solidity  and 
fulness  in  presence  of  those  mighty  truths,  speaking  of  what  was 
above  man,  which  brooded  over  the  history  of  the  Jews  and  came 
forth  into  the  world  with  the  Gospel.  Yet  they  are  indispensable 
to  the  fulness  of  the  Christian  work ;  they  are  the  human  material ; 
and  that  material  must  be  first-rate  in  its  kind.  We  owe  it  per¬ 
haps  permanently  to  Greece  and  Rome  that  we  recognize  fully  the 
grace  of  God’s  original  workmanship  in  man,  the  validity  of  his 
instincts,  his  individual  value,  the  sacredness  and  strength  of  all 
his  natural  social  bonds,  the  wisdom  and  power  possessed  by  his 
incorporated  life.  These  are  things  which  we  could  never  have 
realized  if  all  the  world  had  been  brought  up  in  the  barbarous 
societies  of  ancient  Europe  or  under  the  great  despotisms  of  Egypt 
and  Asia.  The  religions  of  Asia  may  perhaps  show  us  by  contrast 
the  immense  importance  to  a  religion  of  being  able  to  build  with 
sound  and  adequate  materials  on  the  human  side.  That  Greece 
and  Rome  did  contribute  specially  in  this  way  to  the  work  of  the 
true  religion,  may  be  shown  by  the  way  in  which  men  have  again 
and  again  turned  back  to  these  original  sources  for  fresh  impulses 
of  liberty  or  vigor. 

But  these  things  had  their  day  and  passed.  The  age  of  Pericles 
and  of  Demosthenes,  the  great  days  of  the  Roman  Republic,  are 
only  epochs  in  the  history,  long  past  at  the  era  of  our  Lord. 
We  look  to  see  whether  there  is  any  positive  preparation  for  Him 
and  His  Gospel  in  the  whole  drift  of  that  history,  and  especially 
in  tendencies  which  took  a  developed  form  closer  to  the  era  of 
Christianity.1 

General  and  popular  impressions  about  the  character  and  course 
of  the  history  will  put  us  on  the  track  of  a  true  answer.  It  is 
impossible  to  look  at  the  history  of  the  classical  world  without  get- 


1  The  words  ‘era  of  Christianity ’  are  used  intentionally  rather  than  the 
more  precise  ‘era  of  Christ,’  because  anything  which  (without  being  influ¬ 
enced  unless  in  the  most  impalpable  way  by  Christianity)  prepared  the  world 
through  the  first  and  even  the  second  century  of  the  era  to  receive  the 
Gospel  may  be  fairly  included  as  preparation  for  the  revelation  of  Christ. 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ.  123 

ting  a  double  impression,  that  it  is  a  history  of  failure  and  degen¬ 
eracy,  and  yet  that  it  is  a  history  of  bettering  and  progress.  If  we 
take  the  world  at  the  Christian  era,  the  times  of  political  brilliancy 
and  energy  are  over,  and  men  are  sinking  into  a  uniformity  of 
servility  and  stagnation  ;  morally  the  ancient  severity  is  lost,  and 
the  laws  of  Augustus  are  feebly  coping  with  the  results  of  a  general 
dissoluteness  as  to  morality  and  marriage ;  economically  society  is 
disfigured  by  a  vast  slave  system,  by  the  disappearance  of  honest 
and  thriving  free  labor,  and  by  great  developments  of  luxury  and 
pauperism;  in  literature,  though  it  is  the  ‘  golden  age,’ the  signs 
are  not  wanting,  in  artificiality  and  the  excessive  study  of  form,  of 
imminent  rapid  decline  into  the  later  rhetorical  culture ;  in  philo¬ 
sophy  speculation  had  run  itself  out  into  scepticism  and  self-destruc¬ 
tion  ;  and  in  religion  a  disbelief  in  the  ancient  gods  and  a  doubt 
of  all  Divine  providence  is  matter  of  open  profession.  And  yet 
there  is  a  bettering.  The  laws  of  the  Empire  become  a  model  of 
humanity,  equitableness,  and  simplicity.  Seneca  and  Epictetus 
rise  to  thoughts  of  moral  purity  and  sublimity  and  delicacy  which 
at  times  seem  hardly  unworthy  of  the  New  Testament;  and  their 
humane  and  comprehensive  ideas  have  cast  off  the  limitations 
which  the  narrow  life  of  Greek  cities  set  to  those  of  their  greater 
predecessors. 

Here  then  is  a  great  clearing  of  the  stage,  and  a  great  predis¬ 
posing  of  thought  and  sentiment,  for  a  religion  which  proclaimed 
a  good  tidings  for  all  men  without  distinction  of ‘Jew  or  Greek, 
Barbarian  and  Scythian,  bond  or  free  ;  ’  for  a  religion  of  compas¬ 
sion  ;  for  a  religion  wholly  spiritual  and  unpolitical.  There  are 
traces  distinct  and  widespread  of  special  tendencies  to  such  a 
religion,  and  they  are  connected  with  the  best  side  of  the  life  of 
the  time.  The  enormous  diffusion  of  the  ‘  collegia  ’  or  clubs,  in 
which  the  members  were  drawn  together  without  distinction  of 
rank,  or  even  of  free  and  slave,  in  a  partly  religious  bond,  shows 
the  instinct  of  the  time  feeling  for  a  religion  of  brotherhood. 
There  is  a  delicacy  of  family  life  as  seen  in  Plutarch,  in  Pliny,  in 
Fronto,  which  shows  readiness  for  a  religion  such  as  should  regen¬ 
erate  the  simple  instincts  and  relations  of  humanity.  In  the  posi¬ 
tion  and  function  of  the  philosophers  (who  sometimes  half  remind 
one  of  mendicant  friars,1  sometimes  of  the  confessor  or  chaplain 
in  families  of  rank,  in  their  relation  to  education  and  to  the  vicis¬ 
situdes  of  later  life)  there  is  implied  a  concentration  of  thought 
and  interest  upon  character  and  upon  the  discipline  of  individual 


1  Capes,  Age  of  Antonines. 


124 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


life,  a  sensibility  to  spiritual  need,  which  all  indicates  a  ground  pre¬ 
pared  for  Christian  influence.  And,  finally,  whether  it  be  from  the 
stealing  in  of  Eastern  influences,  or  from  a  reaction  against  the 
cold  scepticism  of  Ciceronian  times,  or  from  a  half-political,  half- 
genuine  sense  of  the  necessity  of  religion  to  society,  or  from  a 
sort  of  awed  impression  created  by  the  marvellous  fortune  of 
Rome,  or  from  the  steady  impact  of  the  clear  strong  deep  religious 
faith  of  the  Jews  scattered  everywhere,  and  everywhere,  as  we 
know,  to  an  extraordinary  extent  leavening  society,  or,  as  time 
went  on,  from  a  subtle  influence  of  Christianity  not  yet  accepted 
or  even  consciously  known,  —  there  was,  it  is  notorious,  a  return 
towards  religion  in  the  mind  of  men.  The  temples  were  again 
thronged  ;  priests  became  philosophers.  In  Neo-Platonism  thought 
again  looks  upward,  and  the  last  phase  of  Greek  philosophy  was, 
in  the  phrase  of  the  dry  and  dispassionate  Zeller,1  4  a  philosophy  of 
Revelation  ’  which  sought  knowledge  partly  in  the  inner  revelation 
of  the  Deity  and  partly  in  religious  tradition.  This  movement  was 
indeed  a  rival  of  Christianity ;  it  came  to  put  out  some  of  its 
strength  in  conscious  rivalry,  or  it  tried  in  Gnostic  heresies  to 
rearrange  Christianity  on  its  own  lines ;  but  it  was  the  result  and 
witness  of  a  disposition  of  men’s  hearts  which  made  way  for  the 
Gospel. 

It  was  not,  then,  merely  true  that  the  failures  of  the  heathen 
world  left  it  empty,  hungering,  distrustful  of  itself ;  nor  merely  that 
the  world  of  that  particular  epoch  gave  extraordinary  facilities  of  an 
outward  kind  for  the  diffusion  of  a  world-religion  ;  but  also  that  in 
some  of  its  most  characteristic  and  deepest  workings,  in  thoughts  and 
dispositions  which  it  had  purchased  at  a  great  cost  of  ancient  glories 
and  liberties  and  of  all  that  was  proud  and  distinctive  in  Greek  and 
Roman  religion,  there  was  that  which  would  make  men  ready  for 
Christianity  and  cause  it  to  be  to  them,  as  it  could  not  have  been 
to  their  ancestors,  intelligible,  possible,  and  congenial. 

II.  Dr.  Westcott  has  drawn,  in  a  useful  phrase,  the  invaluable 
distinction  between  a  tendency  towards ,  and  a  tendency  to  produce , 
the  truth  of  Christianity.1 2 

1  Philosophy  of  the  Greeks:  Eclectics,  p.  20  (tr.  Alleyne). 

2  Gospel  of  the  Resurrection  (3d  ed.),  p.  72.  It  is  interesting  to  notice 
that  according  to  so  dispassionate  an  observer  as  M.  Gaston  Boissier  (La 
Religion  Romaine  d’Auguste  aux  Antonins),  who  has  done  so  much  to  trace 
the  better  tendencies  of  the  imperial  period,  the  evidence  suggests  some  such 
distinction,  even  as  regards  some  of  the  main  practical  results  of  Christi¬ 
anity.  For  example,  there  was  a  tendency  to  ameliorate  slavery  on  princi¬ 
ples  of  general  humanity,  but  there  was  no  hint  of  a  possibility  of  an  end  to 
slavery.  There  were  some  signs  of  mutual  interest  between  classes,  but  no 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ .  125 

If  we  have  been  able  to  trace  a  real  shaping  of  the  lines  inward 
and  outward  of  the  world’s  order  disposing  it  for  a  true  religion, 
the  impression  which  this  makes  on  us  must  be  enormously  increased 
if  ( 1)  we  can  see  that  that  religion,  when  it  comes,  is  most  obviously 
a  thing  which  comes  to  the  Gentile  world,  and  does  not  grow  out  of 
it  either  by  blending  of  tendencies,  or  by  constructive  individual 
genius;  and  if  (2)  we  are  able  to  indicate  another  and  perfectly 
distinct  course  of  shaping  and  preparation  which  at  the  required 
moment  yielded  the  material  and  equipment  for  the  religion  which 
was  to  go  out  upon  the  world. 

That  this  was  so  is  in  a  sense  upon  the  face  of  history.  The 
Christian  Church,  it  has  been  said,  appeared  at  first  as  a  Jewish 
sect.  ‘  The  salvation  ’  Christ  declared  was  ‘  of  the  Jews.’  He 
came  ( ‘  not  to  destroy  but)  to  fulfil  ’  the  system  amidst  which  He 
arose.  Such  sayings  put  us  upon  the  track  of  a  special  preparation 
for  the  Gospel.  Let  us  follow  it.  And  (as  the  phrase  is  chosen  to 
imply)  we  look  here  for  something  kindred  indeed  in  many  of  its 
methods  to  that  general  preparation  which  we  have  hitherto  traced, 
but  yet  more  coherent,  positive,  and  concentrated.  For  we  pass 
in  a  sense  at  this  point  (to  use  language  of  the  day),  from  the  prep¬ 
aration  of  an  environment  suitable  to  the  Gospel,  to  a  preparation 
of  the  organism  itself.  Such  language  is  obviously  open  to  criti¬ 
cisms  and  misconceptions  of  more  kinds  than  one.  But  it  is  suffi¬ 
ciently  defensible  historically  and  theologically  to  justify  11s  in  gain¬ 
ing  the  clearness  which  it  gives. 

I  shall  attempt  to  present  the  signs  of  this  preparation  by  con¬ 
sidering  successively  these  three  points  :  — 

(1)  The  relations  between  Israel  and  the  world  at  the  Christian 
era. 

(2)  The  fitness  of  Israel  to  be  the  seed-plot  of  a  world-religion, 
and  of  the  world-religion  given  by  Christ. 

(3)  The  character  of  the  process  by  which  the  Israel,  so  fitted, 
and  so  placed,  had  come  to  be. 

(1)  Many  a  reader  of  Mommsen’s  History  of  Rome  will  have 
been  surprised  by  finding  that  the  ideal  political  construction 
which  the  writer’s  knowledge  and  imagination  have  ascribed  to 
Caesar  was  to  consist  of  three  elements, —  the  Roman,  the  Hellenic, 
and  the  Jewish.1  Yet  striking  as  the  paradox  is,  it  is  chiefly  in 
the  facts  themselves.  Whether  we  look  at  the  ethnological  char- 

progress  towards  the  effective  appearance  of  a  true  philanthrophv  such  as 
the  Christian.  In  such  cases,  however,  the  validity  of  the  distinctions  must 
be  debatable  and  fluctuating.  It  is  absolute  as  regards  the  Incarnation. 

1  Bk.  V.  c.  xi.  The  New  Monarchy 


126 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


acter  of  the  Jews  amidst  a  system  whose  strength  is  from  the  West; 
or  at  their  historical  position,  as  a  nation  in  some  sense  in  deca¬ 
dence,  with  a  history  of  independence  and  glories  long  lost ;  or  at 
the  minuteness  of  their  original  seat,  and  its  insignificance  at  that 
time  as  (ordinarily)  a  subordinate  district  under  the  Roman  pro¬ 
vince  of  Syria,  it  is  alike  surprising  that  it  should  be  possible  to 
speak  of  them  as  the  third  factor  of  the  Roman  Empire.  Yet,  in 
the  main,  the  same  surprise  is  created  by  any  acquaintance  with 
the  circumstances  of  the  Jewish  Dispersion,  as  it  may  be  learnt 
from  easily  accessible  books,  such  as  Edersheim’s  or  Schtirer's.1 
There  is  first  the  ubiquity  of  the  race,  —  testified  alike  by  Josephus, 
Strabo,  and  Philo,  and  by  the  witness  of  inscriptions.  They  are 
everywhere,  and  everywhere  in  force  throughout  the  Roman  world. 
Outside  the  Roman  world  their  great  colonies  in  Babylon  and 
Mesopotamia  are  another  headquarters  of  the  race.  They  are 
an  eighth  part  (one  million)  of  the  population  of  Egypt ;  they 
yield  ten  thousand  at  the  least  to  one  massacre  in  Antioch.  To 
numbers  and  ubiquity  they  add  privilege  in  the  shape  of  rights 
and  immunities,  begun  by  the  policy  of  the  successors  of  Alex¬ 
ander,  but  vigorously  taken  up  and  pushed  by  Rome  as  early 
as  139  b.  c.,  greatly  developed  by  Caesar,  round  whose  pyre  at 
Rome  they  wept,  and  maintained  by  the  almost  consistent  pol¬ 
icy  of  the  earlier  Empire ;  rights  of  equal  citizenship  in  the 
towns  where  they  lived,  and  equal  enjoyment  of  the  boons  granted 
to  citizens  ;  rights  of  self-government  and  internal  administra¬ 
tion  ;  and  rights  or  immunities  guarding  their  distinctive  customs, 
such  as  their  observance  of  the  Sabbath  or  their  transmission 
of  tribute  to  Jerusalem.  The  opportunities  thus  secured  from  with¬ 
out  were  vigorously  turned  to  account  by  their  trading  instinct, 
their  tenacity,  their  power  of  living  at  a  low  cost,  and  above  all 
by  their  admirable  freemasonry  among  themselves,  which  bound 
Jews  throughout  the  world  into  a  society  of  self-help,  and  must 
have  greatly  assisted  the  enterprises  which  depend  on  facility  of 
information,  communication,  and  movement.  So  far  we  merely 
get  an  impression  of  their  importance.  But  there  are  other  points 
which,  while  they  greatly  heighten  this  impression,  add  to  it  that  of 
remarkable  peculiarity.  To  ask  what  was  their  influence  plunges 
us  into  a  tumult  of  paradoxes.  They  had,  for  example,  every¬ 
where  the  double  character  of  citizens  and  strangers,  speaking  the 
language  of  the  countries  where  they  dwelt,  ‘  being  Antiochenes,’ 
as  Josephus  says,  ‘  at  Antioch,  Ephesians  at  Ephesus,’  and  so 

1  EdersheinTs  Life  and  Times  of  Testis  the  Messiah;  Schiirer,  History  of 
the  Jewish  People  in  the  Time  of  Jesus  Christ. 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ. 


127 


forth ;  possessing  and  using  the  rights  and  franchises  of  citizens, 
and  yet  every  one  of  them  counting  the  Holy  Land  his  country  and 
Jerusalem  his  capital;  respecting  the  Sanhedrin  of  Jerusalem  as  the 
supreme  authority  of  the  race  ;  sending  up  their  tribute  annually, 
flocking  thither  themselves  in  vast  numbers  to  keep  the  feasts,  or 
again  not  seldom  returning  there  to  die.  They  possessed  in  fact 
the  combined  advantages  of  the  most  elastic  diffusion,  and  the 
strongest  national  concentration.  Such  a  position  could  hardly 
make  their  relations  to  their  neighbors  entirely  simple  or  harmo¬ 
nious.  It  ‘  involved  an  internal  contradiction/  1  It  could  not  but 
be  felt  that  while  enjoying  all  the  advantages  of  citizenship,  their 
hearts  were  really  elsewhere.  From  all  the  religious  and  social 
side  of  the  common  life,  which  in  the  ancient  world  was  far  less 
separable  from  the  political  than  it  is  now,  they  were  sensibly 
aliens.  They  were  visibly  making  the  best  of  two  inconsistent 
positions.  And  accordingly  tire  irritation  against  them  in  the 
towns  (we  have  a  glimpse  of  it  in  Acts  xix.  34)  and  the  ensuing 
encroachments  and  riots,  form  as  chronic  a  feature  of  the  position, 
as  does  their  protection  by  the  Empire.  But  the  causes  of  irrita¬ 
tion  went  wider  and  deeper.  It  has  been  said  that  ‘  the  feelings 
cherished  towards  the  Jews  throughout  the  eirtire  Graeco-Roman 
world  were  not  so  much  those  of  hatred  as  of  pure  contempt.’  2 
Their  exterior  was  doubtless  unlovely;  a  Jewry,  as  M.  Renan 
reminds  us,  was  perhaps  not  more  attractive  in  ancient  than  in 
modern  times.  But  what  was  even  more  offensive,  especially  to 
that  cosmopolitan  age,  and  what  struck  it  as  altogether  the  domi¬ 
nant  characteristic  of  the  Jews,  was  their  stubborn  and  inhuman 
perversity.  They  would  be  unlike  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  Taci¬ 
tus  has  even  formulated  this  for  them  as  the  principle  guiding 
their  whole  action,  reduced  to  practice  in  details  which  were  sin¬ 
gularly  well  fitted  to  exhibit  its  offensiveness. 3  His  picture  should 
be  read  by  any  one  who  wishes  to  realize  how  cultivated  opinion 
thought  of  them  ;  and,  even  if  evidence  were  lacking,  we  can  see 
that  this  was  just  the  kind  of  dislike  to  be  shared  by  all  classes, 
cultivated  and  uncultivated  alike.  Yet  it  is  against  the  background 
of  this  intense  prejudice,  ever  more  scornful  and  irritated  as  it  was 
exasperated  by  the  incidents  of  daily  contact  at  close  quarters,  that 
we  have  to  paint  the  phenomena,  as  striking  and  as  abundantly 
testified,  of  the  vast  and  penetrating  influence  of  the  Jews  over 
their  neighbors.  These  also  lie  upon  the  surface.  In  very  various 
degrees  multitudes  (of  whom  women  doubtless  formed  a  consider¬ 
able  majority)  adopted  the  customs  and  brought  themselves  into 

1  Schiirer,  II.  ii.  273.  2  Schiirer,  II.  ii.  297.  3  Tac.,  Hist ,  v  4. 


128 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


connection  with  the  religion  of  the  Jews.  The  boasts  or  claims  of 
Josephus,  who  refers  any  sceptical  contemporary  to  ‘  his  own  coun¬ 
try  or  his  own  family/  are  confirmed  by  the  admissions  of  classical 
writers,  by  the  indignant  sarcasms  directed  against  the  converts, 
and  by  the  vivid  touches  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles.1  ‘  Victi  vic- 
toribus  leges  dederunt  ’  is  the  strong  phrase  of  Seneca,  and  it  was 
a  very  persuasive  influence  which  could  cause  it  to  be  said  that  in 
Damascus  ‘  nearly  the  whole  female  population  was  devoted  to 
Judaism  ;  ’  which  could  give  St.  Paul’s  Jewish  opponents  in  the 
towns  of  Greece  and  Asia  Minor  the  power  at  one  time  of  raising 
the  mob,  at  another  of  working  upon  the  ‘  chief  ’  and  4  honorable 
women/  the  ladies  of  the  upper  classes  ;  or  which  could  bring 
4  almost  the  whole  city  ’  together  in  a  provincial  town  because  a 
new  teacher  appears  in  the  Jews’  synagogue.2  This  influence  had 
its  results  in  a  considerable  number  of  actual  proselytes  who  through 
circumcision  received  admission,  somewhat  grudging  indeed  and 
guarded,  within  the  Jewish  pale,  but  still  more  in  a  much  larger 
number  of  adherents  (the  4  devout  persons,’  4  devout  Greeks  etc., 
of  the  Acts)  3  attracted  by  the  doctrines,  and  acquainted  with  the 
Scriptures  of  Israel,  who  formed  a  fringe  of  partly  leavened  Gentile 
life  round  every  synagogue. 

We  hardly  need  evidence  to  show  us  that  to  this  picture  of  the 
influence  of  Jew  over  Gentile,  there  need  to  be  added  another 
which  will  show  how  the  subtle,  persuasive,  and  powerful  culture  of 
the  Graeco-Roman  world  made  itself  felt  upon  the  Jews  of  the 
Dispersion.  The  contrast  between  the  Jews  of  Palestine  and  those 
of  the  Dispersion,  the  translation  of  the  Scriptures  into  Greek,  the 
rise  of  a  literature  which  in  different  ways  tried  to  recommend  what 
was  Jewish  to  the  heathen  or  to  fuse  what  was  Jewish  with  what 
was  Greek,  the  single  figure  of  Philo  at  Alexandria,  are  all  evi¬ 
dences  of  an  influence,  which  must  have  told  continually  with  pen¬ 
etrating  power  on  all  that  was  ablest  and  most  thoughtful  in  the 
Jewish  mind.  It  was  not  the  least  considerable  result  of  this  that 
all  the  great  thoughts  and  beliefs  of  Israel  learned  to  talk  the  lan¬ 
guage  of  the  civilized  ivorld,  and  so  acquired  before  the  time  of 
Christ  an  adequate  and  congenial  vehicle. 

Such  was  the  position  of  Israel  at  the  Christian  era.  It  was  one 
which  had  been  gradually  brought  about  during  the  last  three 
centuries  b.  c.  ;  but  it  only  came  to  its  full  growth  in  the  last  few 
decades  (the  Jewish  settlement  in  Rome  may  date  from  Pompey’s 
time)  under  favor  of  the  imperial  policy  and  the  peace  of  the  times  : 

1  Schiirer,  II.  ii.  308.  2  Acts  xvii.  5,  xiv.  5,  xiii.  50,  44. 

3  Acts  xiii.  43,  etc. 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ. 


129 


and  it  was  soon  to  change  ;  indeed  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  a.  d.  70 
altered  it  within  and  without.  Thus  it  stood  complete  during  the 
half-century  in  which  the  work  of  founding  the  Christian  Church 
throughout  the  Empire  was  accomplished,  and  then  passed  away. 
We  remark  upon  it  how  admirable  an  organization  it  offered  for 
the  dissemination  of  a  world-religion,  originated  upon  Jewish  soil. 
The  significance  of  this,  occurring  at  the  time  when  such  a  religion 
actually  appeared,  is  heightened  when  we  observe  that  the  position 
had  continued  long  enough  fully  to  try  the  experiment  of  what  by 
its  own  forces  Judaism  could  accomplish  for  the  world.  As  St. 
James  argued,1  ‘  Moses  had,’  now  for  a  long  time,  ‘  in  every  city 
them  that  preach  him,  being  read  in  the  synagogues  every  Sab¬ 
bath  day  ’  —  and  it  might  have  so  gone  on  forever  without  any 
conversion  of  the  Gentile  world.  That  world  could  never  have  been 
drawn  within  a  system,  which,  however  zealous  to  make  proselytes, 
had  nothing  better  to  offer  to  those  whom  it  made  than  that  they 
might  come  in,  if  they  liked,  and  sit  down  in  the  lowest  place,  tol¬ 
erated  rather  than  welcomed,  dependents  rather  than  members  of 
an  intenselv  national  community,  leaving  father  and  mother  and  all 
that  they  had,  not  for  a  position  of  spiritual  freedom,  but  for  a 
change  of  earthly  nationality. 

(2)  But  we  trench  upon  the  second  question.  What  was  the 
nation  that  held  this  position  of  vantage  ?  What  signs  are  there 
about  it  which  suggest  a  special  preparation  for  a  purposed  result? 

It  is  one  answer  to  this  question  to  say  that  this  wonderfully 
placed  people  had,  alone  among  the  nations,  a  genuine  faith,  a 
genuine  hope,  and  a  genuine  charity.  They  at  least,  says  Seneca, 
when  he  complains  of  their  influence,  ‘knew  the  reasons  of  their 
customs.’  There  was  a  raison  d'etre  to  their  religion.  In  a  world 
which  still  kept  up  the  forms  of  worship  and  respect  for  gods  whose 
character  and  existence  could  not  stand  the  criticism  of  its  own 
best  moral  and  religious  insight,  any  more  than  that  of  its  scepticism  ; 
or  which  was  framing  for  itself  thoughts  of  Deity  by  intellectual 
abstraction  :  or  which  was  betraying  its  real  ignorance  of  the  very 
idea  of  God  by  worshipping  the  two  great  powers  which,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  it  knew  to  be  mighty,  Nature  and  the  Roman  Empire,  — 
the  Jew  had  a  faith ,  distinct,  colossal,  and  unfailing,  in  a  Diving 
God,  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth.  This  we  may  be  sure  was  the 
inner  secret  of  the  true  attraction  which  drew  the  hearts  of  such 
men  as  Cornelius  the  centurion  to  the  despised  and  repulsive  Jew. 
This  God,  they  further  believed,  was  their  God  for  ever  and  ever. 


1  Acts  xv.  21. 

9 


130 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


‘  Let  us  kneel,’  they  said,  4  before  the  Lord  our  Maker,  for  He  is 
the  Lord  our  God.’  And  therefore,  let  them  have  gained  it  how 
they  may,  they  had  an  indomitable  hope ,  or  rather,  confidence, 
which  all  unpropitiousness  of  outer  appearances  had  only  served  to 
stimulate,  that  He  would  bring  them  through,  that  He  had  a 
purpose  for  them,  and  that  He  would  bring  it  to  pass  :  that  the 
world  was  no  mechanical  system  of  meaningless  vicissitudes,  but 
an  order,  of  which  indeed  they  little  realized  the  scope,  moving 
under  the  hand  of  a  Ruler  for  a  purpose  of  glory  and  beneficence. 
That  the  confidence  of  the  extraordinary  destiny  which  under  this 
order  was  reserved  for  Israel,  as  well  as  the  present  possession  of 
the  Divine  law  and  covenant,  should  have  produced  an  intense 
sense  of  unity  and  fellowship,  was  a  matter  of  course.  The  Roman 
is  obliged  to  recognize  their  mutual  charity ,  however  deformed,  as 
he  thinks,  by  their  antipathy  to  all  who  were  not  of  their  kindred 
and  faith. 

But  such  an  answer  to  our  question,  though  it  brings  before  us 
a  sign,  and  a  sign  of  the  very  highest,  that  is  of  the  moral  and 
spiritual,  order,  does  not  perhaps  set  us  at  the  point  from  which 
the  whole  meaning  of  the  position  opens  to  us  most  naturally.  It 
may  do  this  more  effectually  to  ask  whether  there  was  any  material 
in  Judaism  for  a  world-religion,  and  for  that  world-religion  which 
grew  out  of  it  ? 

Perhaps  if  we  performed  the  futile  task  of  trying  to  imagine  a 
world-religion,  we  should,  with  some  generality  of  consent,  define 
as  its  essentials  three  or  four  points  which  it  is  striking  to  find 
were  fundamentals  of  the  religion  of  Israel,  and  at  that  time  of  no 
other.  We  should  require  a  doctrine  of  God,  lofty,  spiritual, 
moral :  a  doctrine  of  man  which  should  affirm  and  secure  his 
spiritual  being  and  his  immortality :  and  a  doctrine  of  the  relations 
between  God  and  man,  which  should  give  reality  to  prayer  and  to 
the  belief  in  providence,  and  root  man's  sense  of  responsibility  in 
the  fact  of  his  obligation  to  a  righteousness  outside  and  above 
himself,  a  doctrine  in  short  of  judgment.  It  needs  no  words  to 
show  how  the  religion  of  Israel  in  its  full  development  not  only 
taught  these  truths,  but  gave  them  the  dignity  and  importance 
which  belong  to  the  corner-stones  of  a  religion. 

But  then  along  with  these  that  religion  taught  other  beliefs  as 
clearly  conceived,  which  seemed  to  be  of  the  most  opposite  char¬ 
acter  :  just  as  distinctive  and  exclusive  as  the  former  were  univer¬ 
sal.  It  taught  the  obligation  in  every  detail  of  a  very  stringent 
written  law,  and  of  a  ceremonial  and  sacrificial  system,  centred  at 
Jerusalem,  and  forming  the  recognized  communication  between 


iv.  P reparation  in  History  for  Christ.  131 

God  and  man.  It  taught  a  special  election  of  Israel  and  covenant 
of  God  with  Israel,  a  special  purpose  and  future  for  Israel.  Nor 
was  the  conception  of  the  participation  by  other  nations  in  the 
blessings  of  Messiah’s  rule  (to  which  we,  reading  for  example  the 
prophecies  of  Isaiah  in  the  light  of  the  sequel,  cannot  but  give  a 
dominant  place),  more  to  an  Israelite  than  a  striking  incident  in 
a  distinctively  Israelite  glory. 

It  would  seem  then,  combining  these  two  sides,  that  there  was 
in  Israel  the  foundation  on  which  a  religion  for  the  world  could 
be  laid,  but  that  it  could  only  be  made  available  under  stringent 
and,  as  it  might  appear,  impossible  conditions.  An  attempt  to 
make  a  religion  by  extracting  the  universal  truths  in  Judaism 
would  have  been  simply  to  desert  at  once  the  vantage-ground 
which  it  was  proposed  to  occupy,  because  it  would  have  conflicted 
directly  with  every  Jewish  instinct,  belief,  tradition,  and  hope.  It 
the  thing  was  to  be  done,  it  must  be  done  by  some  power  and 
teaching  which,  while  extricating  into  clearness  all  that  was  truest 
in  the  theology  and  morality  of  Israel,  was  also  able  to  show  to 
the  judgment  of  plain  men  and  earnest  seekers  that  it  constituted 
a  true  climax  of  Israel’s  history,  a  true  fulfilment  of  the  promises 
and  prophecies  which  Jews  had  now  made  matters  of  notoriety 
everywhere,  a  true  final  cause  of  all  the  peculiar  and  distinctive 
system  of  Israel.  It  must  be  able  to  take  Israel  to  witness,  and 
therefore  it  must  be  able  to  convince  men  not  only  that  it  had  a 
high  theology  and  a  refined  morality,  but  that  God  had  4  visited 
His  people  :  ’  and  that  ‘  what  He  had  spoken  unto  the  fathers  He 
had  so  fulfilled.’  It  must  produce  accordingly  not  only  doctrine, 
but  fact.  It  must  carry  on,  what  was  implied  in  the  whole  dis¬ 
cipline  of  Israel,  the  assertion  that  truth  was  not  a  matter  of 
speculation,  but  a  word  from  God  ;  or  the  knowledge  of  a  dealing 
of  God  with  man  clothing  itself  with  reality,  embodying  itself  in 
fact,  making  a  home  for  itself  in  history.  It  is  true  that  the 
Judaism  of  the  synagogue  in  its  idolatry  of  the  law,  had  assumed 
the  appearance  of  a  paper  system,  but  in  that  form  it  had  no 
promise  or  power  of  expansion  :  and  on  the  side  where  the  reli¬ 
gion  of  Israel  admitted  of  development  into  some  higher  and  wider 
state,  it  was  distinctly  a  religion  not  of  theory  or  teaching  only, 
but  of  Divine  action  revealing  itself  in  history. 

It  will  not  escape  any  observer  of  the  beginnings  of  Christianity 
that  it  was  precisely  this  attempt  which  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  made. 
If  we  watch  St.  Paul  speaking  to  his  Gentile  audiences  at  Lystra 
or  Athens,  he  brings  to  bear  upon  the  instincts  of  his  hearers 
the  strong  magnet  of  a  clear  and  definite  Theism.  But  these 


132 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


addresses  themselves  implicitly  contain  another  element ;  and  we 
must  now  look  to  them  for  examples  of  the  process,  the  careful 
earnest  process,  by  which  the  Gospel  did  its  rapid  and  yet  most 
gradual  work  of  conversion.  Unquestionably,  as  St.  Paul  himself 
affirms,  and  as  the  Acts  and  the  early  apologetic  writers  show  us, 
it  was  done  by  asserting  and  making  good  the  assertion  with  care¬ 
ful  proof  and  reasoning,  that  in  the  historical  appearance  and  char¬ 
acter  of  Jesus  Christ,  in  his  treatment  while  on  earth,  in  His 
resurrection  and  heavenly  exaltation,  was  to  be  found  the  true, 
natural,  and  legitimate  fulfilment  of  that  to  which  the  Scriptures 
in  various  ways,  direct  and  indirect,  pointed,  and  of  that  which 
the  hope  of  Israel,  slowly  fashioned  by  the  Scriptures  under  the 
discipline  of  experience,  had  learned  to  expect.  This  could  be 
pressed  home  most  directly  on  Jews,  but  it  was  available  also  for 
the  large  prepared  class  among  Gentiles,  to  -whom  the  pre-exis¬ 
tence  of  these  prophecies  and  anticipations  was  known  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  and  to  some  of  whom  the  Jewish  Scriptures  had  been  a  per¬ 
sonal  discipline  ;  the  truth  of  the  Gospel  was  one  ‘  now  made 
manifest  and  by  the  Scriptures  of  the  prophets,  according  to  the 
commandment  of  the  everlasting  God,  made  known  to  all  nations 
for  the  obedience  of  faith.’  The  double  requirement  was  fulfilled, 
and  a  religion,  intrinsically  universal  and  eternal,  was  seen  by  spirit¬ 
ually  clear-sighted  eyes  to  be  in  a  most  real  and  organic  sense  the 
flower  of  Israel’s  stalk. 

(3)  If  it  has  appeared  that  in  the  placing  of  the  nation  at  the 
era,  and  in  its  character  and  belief,  there  was  something  much  to 
be  1  wondered  at,’  and,  more  definitely,  something  marvellously 
suited,  not  indeed  to  generate  such  a  religion  as  that  of  the  Gos¬ 
pel,  but  to  foster  and  assist  its  growth  when  the  seed  of  Divine 
fact  should  be  sown  on  the  prepared  soil ;  then  we  shall  ask, 
finally,  whether  there  is  anything  of  like  striking  significance  in  the 
way  in  which  this  state  of  things  had  come  about?  Let  us  pass  by 
the  causes  by  which  the  people  of  Israel  obtained  their  external 
position.  These,  even  including  a  thing  so  remarkable  as  the  spon¬ 
taneous  restoration  by  an  Oriental  Empire  of  a  deported  people, 
are  not  in  themselves  different  from  the  ordinary  workings  of  his¬ 
tory  ;  though  in  combination  they  may  contribute  to  deepen  the 
impression  of  a  hand  fashioning  out  of  many  elements,  and  in 
many  ways,  a  single  great  result.  But  how  had  the  Jews  come  to 
be  what  they  were?  how  had  they  gained  the  religious  treasure 
which  they  possessed,  and  the  tenacity  of  religious  and  national 
life  which  played  guardian  to  it?  The  whole  course  of  Israel’s 
history  must,  in  one  sense,  give  the  answer  to  this  question :  and 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ.  133 

there  are  no  controversies  more  difficult  or  more  unsolved  than 
those  which  are  now  raging  round  the  problem  of  that  course,  its 
origin,  stages,  and  order.  But  it  may  be  possible  to  make  some 
reflections  on  it  without  entangling  ourselves  very  much  in  those 
controversies. 

(a)  At  the  outset  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  by  the  inter¬ 
est  which  the  Jews  themselves  felt  in  the  process  of  their  history. 
That  interest  belongs  to  the  very  centre  of  their  life  and  thought. 
It  is  not  an  offshoot  of  national  vainglory,  for  (as  has  been  so 
often  remarked)  it  resulted  in  a  record  full-charged  with  the  inci¬ 
dents  of  national  failure  and  defection  :  it  is  not  the  result  of  a 
self  conscious  people  analyzing  its  own  moral  and  other  develop¬ 
ment,  for  though  the  moral  judgment  is  indeed  always  at  work  in 
the  narratives  and  the  poems,  it  is  more  occupied  in  drawing  out 
the  teaching  of  recurring  sequences  of  sin  and  punishment  than  in 
framing  a  picture  of  the  whole.  The  result  is  to  lay  a  picture  of 
development  before  us,  but  the  aim  is  to  treasure  and  record  every 
detail  of  God’s  dealings  with  the  nation  of  His  choice.  rl  his  is 
what  gives  continuity  and  unity  to  the  whole  ;  this  is  what  lends 
to  it  its  intense  and  characteristic  uniqueness.  And  when  we  look 
steadily  at  this,  we  perceive  afresh,  what  familiarity  almost  con¬ 
ceals  from  us,  the  distinctive  quality  of  Israel’s  religion  ;  that  it  is 
not  a  system  of  teaching,  nor  a  tradition  of  worship,  nor  a  personal 
discipline,  though  it  may  include  all  these  ;  but  that  it  is  in  itself 
a  belief  in  the  working  of  God,  Who  is  the  God  of  all  the  earth, 
but  specially  the  God  of  Israel,  and  Who  works  indeed  every¬ 
where,  but  in  an  altogether  special  sense  in  Isiael.  In  reflecting 
on  their  history  they  contemplate  the  object  of  their  faith.  Hence 
truth  is  to  them  not  a  philosophic  acquisition,  but  lies  in  the  words 
which  had  come  from  God  faithfully  treasured  and  received  :  it 
is  revealed  in  word  and  act  :  goodness,  in  man  or  nation,  is  the 
faithful  adherence  to  those  conditions,  under  which  the  good  pur¬ 
pose  of  God  can  work  itself  out  and  take  effect :  it  is  a  corres¬ 
pondence  to  a  purpose  of  grace  :  and  the  centre  and  depositary  of 
their  hope  is  neither  the  human  race,  nor  any  association  for  moral 
and  religious  effort,  but  an  organism  raised  by  Him  who  raises  all 
the  organisms  of  nature  from  a  chosen  seed,  and  drawn  onwards 
through  the  stages  by  which  family  passes  into  nation  and  king¬ 
dom,  and  then  through  that  higher  discipline  by  which  the  natural 
commonwealth  changes  into  the  spiritual  community  of  the  faithful 
‘  remnant.’  If  any  one  will  try  to  realize  the  impression  which 
Christianity  made  upon  the  heathen  world,  he  will  not  fail  to  see 
how  the  new  truth  was  able  to  impress  men  because  it  found  these 


134 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


conceptions  of  revelation,  grace,  and  an  organic  society  of  God’s 
choice  and  shaping,  all  so  strange  and  so  impressive  to  the  heathen 
world,  ingrained  as  the  natural  elements  of  religion  in  the  men 
whom  it  made  its  instruments. 

But  why  did  the  Jews  so  regard  their  history?  For  the  answer 
we  may  revert  to  the  other  question,  What  made  them  what  they 
were  at  the  Christian  era?  For  they  had  gone  through  a  crisis 
calculated  to  destroy  both  their  existence  and  their  religion.  It 
has  been  in  fashion  with  some  writers  to  emphasize  the  resem¬ 
blances,  and  minimize  the  differences,  between  the  religion  of 
Israel  and  that  of  its  neighbors.  In  view  of  this  it  becomes 
important  to  note  the  specific  peril  of  ancient  religions.  That 
peril  was  that  the  close  association  of  the  nation  with  its  god 
caused  the  failure  of  the  one  to  appear  a  failure  of  the  other,  and 
to  endanger  or  destroy  the  respect  paid  to  him.  The  religion  of 
a  subdued  or  ruined  people  was,  as  we  may  say,  a  demonstrated 
failure.  Sennacherib’s  defiance  of  Hezekiah  urges  this  w  ith  a 
conqueror’s  irony.1  The  case  of  the  Ten  Tribes  had  probably 
given  an  illustration  of  it  within  the  circle  of  Israel  itself.  And  in 
Judah,  upon  any  showing,  there  was  enough  of  the  feeling  that 
Jehovah  was  responsible  for  His  people,  of  the  conviction  that  He 
would  certainly  protect  His  own,  of  the  confidence  resting  on 
prosperity  and  liable  to  be  shaken  by  its  loss,  to  make  the  downfall 
of  the  state,  carrying  with  it  that  of  the  Temple  and  the  outer 
order  of  religion,  an  enormous  peril  to  the  religion  itself,  and  with 
it  to  the  very  existence  of  Israel.  It  is  not  difficult  to  discern  the 
agency  by  which  the  peril  was  averted.  That  agency  was  Prophecy. 
Modern  criticism,  though  it  may  quarrel  with  the  inspiration  or 
predictive  power  of  the  prophets,  has  given  fresh  and  unbiassed 
witness  to  their  importance  as  an  historic  phenomenon.  Kuenen,2 
for  example,  points  out  how  at  every  turning-point  in  Israel’s  later 
history  there  stands  a  man  who  claims  to  bring  a  word  of  God  to 
the  people.  Prof.  Huxley,3  in  a  recent  article,  has  told  us  that  1  a 
vigorous  minority  of  Babylonian  Jews,’  that  is,  the  Jews  upon 
whom  the  full  forces  of  prophecy  bore,  ‘created  the  first  con¬ 
sistent,  remorseless,  naked  Monotheism,  which,  so  far  as  history 
records,  appeared  in  the  world  .  .  .  and  they  inseparably  united 
therewith  an  ethical  code,  which,  for  its  purity  and  its  efficiency  as 
a  bond  of  social  life,  was,  and  is,  unsurpassed.’  Of  whatever  fact 
may  underlie  this  description,  the  prophets  are  at  once  evidence 
and  authors. 

1  Isaiah  xxxvi.  18.  2  Hibbert  Lectures,  1882,  p.  231. 

3  Nineteenth  Century,  April,  1886. 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ. 


135 


Now  prophecy  confronted  the  impending  peril  in  the  name  of 
Jehovah  ;  on  the  one  side  it  displayed  the  enemy  (whether  as  by 
Isaiah  it  prescribed  a  bound  to  his  advance,  or  as  by  Jeremiah 
announced  the  catastrophe  to  be  wrought  by  him)  as  himself 
utterly  in  Jehovah's  hands,  His  axe  or  saw  for  discipline  upon  the 
trees  of  the  forest ;  on  the  other  side  it  showed  that  Jehovah’s 
obligation  to  Israel  was  conditioned  by  His  essential  righteousness  ; 
that  national  disaster  might  be  J  ehovah’s  necessary  vengeance,  and 
that  His  purpose  for  Israel  — which  it  reasserted  with  fullest 
emphasis  —  might  need  to  be  realized  for  an  Israel  purified  by 
such  discipline,  a  shoot  from  the  stock  of  the  felled  tree,  the 
remnant  of  an  4  afflicted  and  poor  people.’ 1  And  prophecy  was 
beforehand  with  all  this  ;  it  was  not  an  afterthought  to  explain 
away  a  calamity ;  and  so  it  fashioned  in  Israel  at  least  a  core  of 
spiritual  faith,  to  which  outward  disaster  of  polity  and  religion, 
however  destructive,  was  not  confounding,  and  which  had  stamina 
enough  in  it  to  draw  wholesome  though  bitter  nourishment  from 
the  hard  Captivity  discipline.  This,  when  the  flood  came,  was  an 
ark  for  Israel’s  religion,  and,  in  its  religion,  for  the  national  life, 
which  re-organized  itself  under  new  conditions  round  the  nucleus 
of  the  religion. 

Thus,  at  the  crisis  and  hinge  of  the  historical  development 
which  issued  in  the  wonderfully  placed  and  constituted  Israel  of 
Christ’s  time,  and  which  was  crowned  by  the  New  Religion,  we 
find  this  agency,  which  in  itself  would  arrest  our  wonder.  The 
more  we  look  at  it,  the  more  wonderful  it  is.  Every  suggestion  of 
comparison  with  heathen  oracles,  divination  and  the  rest,  can  only 
bring  out  with  more  vivid  effect  the  contrast  and  difference  between 
it  and  all  such  things.  It  claims  by  the  mouth  of  men  transpar¬ 
ently  earnest  and  honest,  to  speak  from  God.  It  brings  with  it 
the  highest  credentials,  moral,  spiritual,  historical  :  moral ,  for  it 
spends  what  at  first  sight  seems  all  its  strength  in  the  intrepid  and 
scathing  rebuke  of  the  evils  immediately  round  it,  especially  in  the 
high  places  of  society,  against  the  lust,  cruelty,  avarice,  frivolity, 
insolence,  foul  worships,  which  it  found  so  rankly  abundant ; 
spiritual ,  for  it  speaks  the  language  of  an  absolutely  unworldly 
faith,  and  accomplishes  a  great  spiritual  work,  such  as  we  can 
hardly  over-estimate,  unless  indeed  with  Prof.  Huxley  we  distort 
its  proportions  so  as  to  prejudice  the  earlier  religion  from  which  it 
sprang  or  the  Christianity  to  which  it  contributed  :  historical , 
because  occurring  at  the  very  crisis  of  Israel’s  history  (750-5 5°) ? 


1  Isaiah  x.  15;  xi.  1  ;  Zeph.  iij.  12. 


136  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

it  gained  credence  and  authority  from  the  witness  of  events,  and 
dealt  with  an  emergency  of  the  most  perilous  and  bewildering 
kind,  as  not  the  most  skilful  opportunist  could  have  dealt  with  it, 
by  a  use,  as  sublime  as  simple,  of  the  principles  of  righteousness 
and  faith.  If  we  compare  what  the  prophets  did  for  their  con¬ 
temporaries  and  what  they  did  for  the  future  of  Israel  and  the 
world,  and  see  that  this  was  done,  not  by  two  sets  of  utterances 
working  two  different  ways,  but  by  a  single  blended  strain  of 
prophecy,  we  gain  a  double  impression,  of  which  the  twofold  force 
is  astonishing  indeed.  It  is  gained  without  pressing  their  claim  to 
predictive  power,  at  least  beyond  the  horizons  of  their  own  period. 
But  it  is  impossible  for  any  careful  and  candid  reader  of  the  words 
of  the  prophets  to  stop  there,  and  not  to  feel  that  there  is  another 
element  in  them,  not  contained  in  a  passage  here  and  there  but 
forever  reappearing,  interwoven  with  the  rest,  and  evidently  felt 
by  the  prophets  themselves  to  be  in  some  sense  necessary  for  the 
vindication  and  completion  of  their  whole  teaching.  It  is  an 
element  of  anticipation  and  foresight.  We  see  that  this  is  so,  and 
we  see  in  part  the  method  of  it.  It  is  bound  up  with,  it  springs 
out  of  all  that  is  spiritually  and  morally  greatest  in  the  prophets. 
Their  marvellous,  clear-sighted,  steady  certainty  that  the  Lord  who 
sitteth  above  rules  all,  that  He  is  holy,  and  that  unrighteousness  in 
man  or  nations  cannot  prevail ;  their  insight  piercing  through  the 
surface  of  history  to  underlying  laws  of  providential  order ;  the 
strange  conviction  or  consciousness,  felt  throughout  the  nation  but 
centring  in  the  prophets,  that  this  God  had  a  purpose  for  Israel  ;  — 
these  deep  things,  which,  however  they  came  and  whatever  we 
think  of  them,  make  Israel’s  distinctive  and  peculiar  glory,  were 
accompanied  by,  and  issued  in,  anticipations  of  a  future  which 
would  vindicate  and  respond  to  them.  Just  as  the  belief  in  a 
future  life  for  God’s  children  was  not  taught  as  a  set  doctrine  to 
the  Jews,  but  grew  with  the  growth  of  their  knowledge  of  the 
Living  and  Holy  God,  and  of  man’s  relation  as  a  spiritual  being  to 
Him,  so  with  the  predictions  of  which  we  speak.  As  it  was  given 
to  the  prophets  to  realize  the  great  spiritual  truths  of  present 
because  eternal  moment  which  they  taught,  it  was  given  to  them 
also  to  discern  that  these  truths  pointed  to  a  future  which  should 
bring  them  vindication.  The  cloudy  time  of  trial  and  confusion 
would  one  day  come  to  a  close  ;  the  Sun  whose  rays  they  caught 
would  one  day  shine  out ;  the  partial  and  passing  deliverances  in 
which  they  taught  men  to  see  God’s  hand  must  one  day  issue  in 
a  deliverance  of  deeper  moment,  of  lasting  and  adequate  signifi¬ 
cance  ;  there  would  be  an  unbaring  of  God’s  arm,  a  manifesting  of 


iv.  P reparation  in  History  for  Christ.  137 

His  power  to  decide,  to  justify,  to  condemn,  and  it  would  be  seen 
in  some  final  form  why  and  how  Israel  was,  in  a  distinctive  sense, 
the  people  of  the  God  of  the  whole  earth ;  that  union  between 
God  and  His  people,  of  which  the  prophets  were  themselves  medi¬ 
ators  and  which  was  so  miserably  imperfect  and  so  constantly 
broken,  would  one  day  be  complete  ;  and,  finally,  even  the  very 
instruments  which  He  was  using  in  the  present,  the  Anointed 
King,  the  chosen  Royal  House,  the  Prophet-Servant  of  God,  the 
holy  hill  of  Zion,  were  charged  with  a  meaning  of  which  the 
significance  was  only  in  the  future  to  become  clear.  Thus  in  this 
free,  deep,  spiritual  —  let  us  say  it  out,  inspired — manner  the 
predictions  of  prophecy  emerge  and  gather  shape.  Thus  among 
the  people  which  was  most  conservative  and  jealous  of  its  own 
religious  privilege,  the  promise  most  deeply  cherished  was  one  in 
which  all  nations  of  the  earth  should  be  blessed,  and  there  is  heard 
the  strange  announcement  of  a  ‘new  covenant.’  Thus  it  comes 
about  that  the  most  satisfying  and  satisfied  of  all  religions  becomes 
the  one  which,  in  its  deepest  meaning,  in  the  minds  of  its  most 
faithful  followers,  strains  forward  most  completely  beyond  itself. 
Thus,  as  it  has  been  said,  ‘  Prophecy  takes  off  its  crown  and  lays 
it  at  the  feet  of  One  who  is  to  be.’  Thus  a  people  who  have 
become  intensely  and  inexorably  monotheistic  and  to  whom  the 
Deity  becomes  more  and  more  remote  in  awful  majesty  so  that 
they  do  not  dare  to  name  His  Name,  carry  down  with  them 
Scriptures  which  discover  the  strange  vision  of  a  human  King 
with  Divine  attributes  and  strain  towards  some  manifestation  of 
God  in  present  nearness.  Thus  amidst  the  pictures  in  which,  with 
every  varying  detail,  using  the  scenery,  the  personages,  the  nations, 
the  ideas  of  its  own  day,  the  instinct  of  prophetic  anticipation 
finds  expression,  there  emerges,  with  gradually  gathering  strength, 
a  definite  Hope,  and  some  clear  lineaments  of  that  which  is  to  be. 

For,  be  it  observed,  at  this  point  interpretation,  declaring  what 
the  prophets  seem  to  us  to-day  to  mean,  passes  into  and  gives 
way  to  historical  fact.  The  most  sceptical  cannot  deny  either  that 
the  words  in  which  the  prophets  spoke  of  the  future  did,  as  a  mat¬ 
ter  of  fact,  crystallize  into  a  hope,  —  a  hope  such  as  has  no  parallel 
in  history,  and  of  which  distorted  rumors  were  able  to  stir  and 
interest  the  heathen  world ;  or  that  they  were,  long  before  the 
time  of  Jesus,  interpreted  as  sketching  features,  some  general  and 
shadowy,  some  curiously  distinct  and  particular,  of  Messiah’s  work 
and  kingdom. 

And  then,  face  to  face  with  this,  stands  another  fact  as  confess¬ 
edly  historical.  For,  ‘in  the  fulness  of  the  time,’  it  did  appear  to 


138 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


men  of  many  kinds  who  had  the  books  in  their  hands,  —  men  with 
every  reason  for  judging  seriously  and  critically,  and  in  most  cases 
with  the  strongest  prejudice  in  favor  of  an  adverse  judgment, — 
that  these  prophecies  were  fulfilled  in  a  King  and  a  Kingdom  such 
as  they  never  dreamt  of  till  they  saw  them.  It  would  be  a  strange 
chapter  in  the  history  of  delusion  if  there  were  no  more  to  add. 
But  there  is  to  add,  first,  that  the  King  and  the  Kingdom  whereto 
(in  no  small  part  upon  the  seeming  perilous  ground  of  this  cor¬ 
respondence  with  prophecy)  these  men  gave  their  faith,  have 
proved  to  win  such  a  spiritual  empire  as  they  claimed  ;  and,  fur¬ 
ther,  that  men  like  ourselves,  judging  at  the  cool  distance  of  two 
thousand  years,  are  unable  to  deny  that  in  the  truest  sense  of  ‘  ful¬ 
filment,’  as  it  would  be  judged  by  a  religious  mind,  Jesus  and  His 
Kingdom  do  ‘  fulfil  the  prophets,’  —  fulfil  their  assertion  of  a 
unique  religious  destiny  for  Israel  by  which  the  nations  were  to 
profit,  of  a  time  when  the  righteousness  of  God  should  be  revealed 
for  the  discomfiture  of  pride  and  sin  and  for  the  help  of  the  meek, 
of  a  nearer  dwelling  of  God  with  His  people,  of  a  new  covenant, 
and  of  the  lasting  reign  of  a  perfect  Ruler. 

To  some  minds  it  may  weaken,  but  to  others  it  will  certainly 
intensify,  the  impression  thus  created,  if  they  are  asked  to  observe 
that  now  and  again  there  occur  in  the  Jewish  Scriptures  words, 
passages,  events,  in  which  with  startling  distinctness,  independence, 
and  minuteness  there  stand  forth  features  of  what  was  to  be.  It  is 
as  if  the  anticipation  which  fills  the  air  with  glow  focussed  itself 
here  and  there  in  sparkling  points  of  light  which  form  and  flash 
and  fade  away  again.  We  may  confidently  assert  that  in  the  case 
of  such  passages  as  the  2 2d  and  noth  Psalms,  or  the  9th  and 
53d  chapters  of  Isaiah,  the  harder  task  is  for  him  who  will  deny 
than  for  him  who  will  assert  a  direct  correspondence  between 
prediction  and  fulfilment.  If  they  stood  alone,  general  scientific 
considerations  might  make  it  necessary  to  undertake  the  harder 
task.  Standing  out  as  they  do  from  such  a  context  and  back¬ 
ground  as  has  been  here  indicated,  the  interpretation  which  sees 
in  them  the  work  of  a  Divine  providence  shaping  out  a  ‘  sign  ’  for 
the  purpose  which  in  each  Christian  age,  and  especially  in  the  first, 
it  has  actually  subserved,  is  the  interpretation  which  is  truest  to  all 
the  facts.  They  are  the  special  self-betrayal  of  a  power  which  is 
at  work  throughout,  of  which  the  spiritual  ear  hears  the  sound, 
though  we  are  often  unable  distinctly  to  see  the  footprints. 

It  seems  then  impossible,  upon  such  a  view  of  the  phenomena 
of  prophecy  as  has  been  here  roughly  and  insufficiently  indicated, 
to  deny  that  whatever  appearance  of  preparation  we  may  dis- 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ. 


139 


cern  in  the  condition,  outward  and  inward,  of  the  Jews  in  the 
time  of  Christ,  is  strongly  corroborated  by  a  like  appearance  of 
preparation  in  the  process  by  which  they  had  become  what  they 
were. 

(b)  We  have  selected  out  of  all  the  foregoing  history  the  epoch 
and  the  influence  of  the  prophets  for  several  reasons.  They  pre¬ 
side  over  the  most  critical  period  of  Israel’s  history.  They  seem 
to  bring  to  most  pronounced  expression  the  spirit  and  character 
which  pervades  the  whole  of  that  history.  They  are  known  to  us 
through  their  own  writings  ;  and  we  are  therefore  on  ground  where 
(comparatively  speaking)  the  premises  are  uncontroverted.  And 
as  it  is  the  fashion,  perhaps,  to  discredit  the  argument  of  prophecy, 
—  partly,  no  doubt,  on  account  of  the  technical  form  in  which 
it  was  ordinarily  presented,  —  it  is  important  to  reassert  that  in  all 
its  main  strength  that  argument  holds  its  ground,  reinforced, 
indeed,  as  we  think,  by  the  increased  power  to  apprehend  its 
breadth  and  solidity  which  our  more  historically  trained  modern 
minds  should  have  gained.  But  selection  of  what  is  most  salient 
should  imply  no  neglect  of  the  rest ;  and  the  argument,  or  view  of 
the  facts,  —  which  has  here  for  clearness  sake  been  abbreviated, 
and  mainly  centralized  upon  the  work  and  implications  of  proph¬ 
ecy, —  can  be  deepened  as  the  drift  of  the  great  lines  of  Israel’s 
discipline  is  more  deeply  realized.  Thus,  for  example,  little  or 
nothing  has  been  here  said  of  the  Law.  Yet,  without  foreclosing 
any  discussion  as  to  its  sources  and  development,  we  can  see  that 
the  law  of  God  was  a  factor  in  every  stage  of  Israel’s  history,  and 
that  in  the  making  of  the  prepared  Israel  of  Christ’s  time  the  law 
in  its  fullest  and  most  developed  shape  was,  and  had  been  for  ages, 
a  paramount  influence.  No  influence  more  concentrated  and 
potent  can  be  found  in  history.  And  to  see  the  deepest  drift  of 
it  we  have  no  need  to  speculate  on  what  might  have  been,  or  was 
sure  to  be.  Historical  documents  point  us  to  what  was.  The 
Epistles  to  the  Romans  and  the  Galatians,  and  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  lay  open  respectively  two  ways  of  its  working.  On 
the  one  side  it  appears  as  a  great  witness  for  righteousness.  Men 
were  schooled  to  live  under  a  sense  of  peremptory  obligation  ;  to 
comply  scrupulously,  exactly,  submissively  with  an  unquestioned 
authority.  This  sense  and  temper  is  liable  to  great  abuse  :  it 
lends  itself  when  abused  to  a  mechanical  morality,  to  a  morbid 
casuistry,  to  the  complacency  of  an  external  perfectness.  It  was 
so  abused  very  widely  among  the  Jews.  But  it  is  nevertheless  an 
indispensable  factor  in  a  true  morality,  to  which  it  lends  the  spe¬ 
cial  power  of  command  ;  and  in  Israel  it  conferred  this  power 


140  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

because  it  connected  obligation  with  the  will  of  a  righteous  God. 
This  is  expressed  in  the  repeated  sanction,  *  I  am  the  Lord  your 
God,’  following  precept  after  precept  of  the  law;  and  in  the  sum¬ 
mary  claim,  ‘  Be  ye  holy,  for  1  am  holy.’  Evidently  here  there  is 
that  which  transcends  all  mechanical  schemes  of  obedience  ;  there 
is  an  infinite  standard.  As  such  it  pointed  and  impelled  onwards 
towards  the  true  religion  in  which  faith  and  holiness  should  be 
entirely  at  one.  As  such  meanwhile  it  stimulated  and  dismayed 
the  deeper  spirits ;  stimulating  them  by  the  loftiness  of  its  demand, 
dismaying  them  by  the  proved  impossibility  of  that  perfect  com¬ 
pliance  which  alone  was  compliance  at  all.  lhus  the  foundations 
were  laid  of  a  temper  at  once  robust  and  humble,  confident  and 
diffident ;  though  they  were  laid  upon  a  contradiction  which  the 
law  had  in  itself  no  power  to  resolve,  there  was  indeed  (here 
we  take  up  the  guidance  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews)  one  part 
of  the  law  which  acknowledged  that  contradiction,  which  half 
promised  to  resolve  it,  but  having  no  real  power  to  do  so,  could 
only  shape  and  deepen  the  demand  for  some  solution.  This  was, 
of  course,  the  sacrificial  system.  The  sacrificial  system  opens  up 
quite  other  thoughts  from  those  of  strict  demand  and  strict  obedi¬ 
ence.  It  points  to  quite  another  side  of  religious  and  moral 
development.  Yet  it  starts  from  the  same  truth  of  a  Holy  God 
Who  requires,  and  inasmuch  as  He  is  holy  must  require,  a  per¬ 
fect  obedience.  Only  it  acknowledges  the  inevitable  fact  of  dis¬ 
obedience.  It  embodies  the  sense  of  need.  It  appeals  to,  and  as 
part  of  the  Divine  law  it  reveals,  a  quality  in  the  Supreme  Good¬ 
ness  which  can  go  beyond  commanding  and  condemning,  to 
forgive  and  reconcile.  It  creates  in  a  word  the  spirit  of  humility, 
and  it  feels,  at  the  least,  after  a  God  of  love. 

What  a  profound  preparation  there  is  in  this  for  the  life  which 
Christ  blessed  in  the  Beatitudes  and  inaugurated  by  all  that  He 
was  and  did,  and  for  the  truth  of  the  Divine  being  and  character 
which  was  set  forth  in  Him.  Yet  the  law  only  prepared  for  this, 
and  made  the  demand  which  this  met.  It  made  no  answer  to 
its  own  demand.  It  could  not  reconcile  its  own  severity  and  its 
own  hopes  of  mercy ;  its  apparatus  of  sacrifice  was  in  itself  abso¬ 
lutely  and  obviously  insufficient  for  any  solution  of  the  contradic¬ 
tion.  It  was  a  marvellous  discipline  which,  while  it  trained  its 
people  so  far,  demanded  the  more  urgently  something  which  all 
its  training  could  never  give  nor  reach. 

(c)  The  work  of  prophecy  and  the  work  of  the  law  was  also 
(if  we  can  distinguish  causes  which  were  so  much  affected  by  one 
another)  the  work  of  history.  To  the  work  of  the  prophets, 


IV.  P reparation  in  History  for  Christ.  14 1 

indeed,  the  history  of  both  the  past  and  the  succeeding  times  was 
essential,  —  the  former  to  supply  their  work  with  a  standing  ground, 
the  latter  to  engrain  its  teaching  into  the  life  of  the  nation.  We 
look  back,  and  we  ask,  What  gave  the  prophets  their  advantage, 
what  was  the  fulcrum  of  their  lever?  drained  to  observe  the  pro¬ 
cesses  of  religious  evolution,  we  must  refuse  to  believe  with  Pro¬ 
fessor  Huxley  that  a  lofty  monotheism  and  a  noble  morality  sprang 
out  of  the  ground  among  a  ‘  minority  of  Babylonian  Jews.’  But 
we  shall  be  prepared  to  rind  that  the  rudimentary  stages  differ 
much  from  the  mature.  The  beginnings  of  life,  as  we  know  them, 
are  laid  in  darkness  ;  they  emerge  crude  and  childish ;  the  physi¬ 
cal  and  outward  almost  conceals  the  germ  of  spiritual  and  rational 
being  which  nevertheless  is  the  self,  and  which  will  increasingly 
assert  itself  and  rule.  It  may  be  so  with  that  organism  which  God 
was  to  make  the  shrine  of  His  Incarnation.  We  may  have  to 
learn  that  the  beginnings  of  Israel  are  more  obscure,  more  elemen¬ 
tary,  less  distinctive  from  surrounding  religions,  than  we  had  sup¬ 
posed.  We  need  not  fear  to  be  as  bold  as  Amos  .in  recognizing 
that  what  was  in  one  aspect  the  unique  calling  of  Gbd’s  Son  out  of 
Egypt,1  was  in  another  but  one  among  the  Divinely  ruled  processes 
of  history,  such  as  brought  up  the  Philistines  from  Caphtor  and 
the  Syrians  from  Kir.2  We  need  not  be  more  afraid  than  Ezekiel 
to  say  that  the  peculiar  people  were  an  offshoot  (if  so  it  should  be) 
of  natural  stocks,  with  the  Amorite  for  father  and  the  Hittite  for 
mother.3  But  all  this  will  hardly  take  from  us  that  sense  of  con¬ 
tinuous  shaping  of  a  thing  towards  a  Divine  event  which  has 
always  been  among  the  supports  of  faith.  We  shall  see  that  the 
prophetic  appeals  imply  a  past,  and  that  their  whole  force  lies  in 
what  they  assume,  and  only  recall  to  their  hearers  ;  the  special 
possession  of  Israel  by  Jehovah,  His  selection  of  them  for  Plis 
own,  His  deliverances  of  them  from  Egypt  and  onwards,  giving 
the  earnest  of  a  future  purpose  for  which  they  were  preserved,  and 
for  which  His  definite  promises  were  committed  to  them,  to  the 
seed  of  Abraham,  the  house  of  Israel,  the  line  of  David.  These 
things  the  prophets  imply,  standing  upon  these  they  speak  with 
all  the  force  of  those  who  need  only  bid  the  people  to  realize  and 
to  remember,  or  at  most  to  receive  from  God  some  fresh  confirma¬ 
tion  and  enlargement  of  their  hopes.4 

1  Hosea  xi.  1.  2  Amos  ix.  7.  3  Ezekiel  xvi.  3. 

4  It  is  interesting  to  note  that,  according  to  the  record  preserved  by 
Israel  of  their  own  history,  that  which  Kuenen  says  of  later  times,  that  *  at 
each  turning-point  of  the  history  stands  a  man  who  claims  to  bring  a  word 
from  God,’  is  exactly  true  of  the  older  history  too:  Abraham,  Moses, 


142 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


Or  again,  from  the  work  of  the  prophets  we  look  forward,  and 
when  we  have  recovered  from  our  surprise  at  seeing  that  a  dreary 
interval  of  five  centuries  separates  the  Evangelical  prophecy,  which 
seemed  so  ready  for  the  flower  of  the  Gospel,  from  the  time  of  its 
blooming,  we  discern  how  the  processes  ot  that  interval  were  util¬ 
ized  in  realizing,  engraining,  diffusing  the  great  truths  of  prophetic 
teaching.  The  return  without  a  monarchy  and  under  an  ecclesias¬ 
tical  governor,  and  the  dispersion  through  many  lands,  necessitated 
in  act  that  transformation  of  the  political  into  the  spiritual  polity, 
almost  of  the  nation  into  the  Church,  of  which  Isaiah’s  work  was 
the  germ.  The  institution  of  the  synagogues,  which  belongs  to 
this  time  and  in  which  public  worship  was  detached  from  all  local 
associations  and  from  the  ancient  forms  of  material  sacrifice,  was, 
as  it  were,  the  spiritual  organ  of  the  new  ubiquitous  cosmopolitan 
Jewish  life.  Yet  contemporaneously  the  centralizing  influences 
gained  strength.  The  conservative  work  of  Ezra  and  of  the  Scribes 
and  Rabbis  at  whose  head  he  stands,  gathered  up  and  preserved 
the  treasures  which  gave  a  consciously  spiritual  character  to  Israel’s 
national  loyalty  ;  and  guarded  with  the  hedge  of  a  scrupulous  literal¬ 
ism,  what  needed  some  such  defence  to  secure  it  against  the  perils 
implied  in  being  carried  wide  over  the  world.  By  the  resistance  in 
Palestine  under  Syrian  rule  to  Hellenizing  insolence,  and  in  the  Dis¬ 
persion  to  the  fascinations  and  pleasures  of  Hellenizing  culture,  and 
by  the  great  Maccabean  struggle,  the  nation  was  identified  with  re¬ 
ligious  earnestness  and  zeal  in  a  way  of  which  we  only  see  the  cari¬ 
cature  and  distortion  in  the  Pharisaism  which  our  Lord  denounced. 

Thus,  if  we  compare  our  Lord’s  time  with  the  great  age  of 
prophecy,  we  see  how  much  has  been  acquired.  lime  has  been 
given  for  the  prophetic  influences  to  work.  1  here  has  been  loss, 
but  there  has  also  been  gain.  That  conscious,  explicit,  and  mag¬ 
nificently  uncompromising  Monotheism,  which,  in  the  mouth  of 
the  Evangelical  prophet  was  quivering  with  the  glow  and  passion  of 
freshly  inspired  realization,  has,  by  ‘  the  end  of  the  age  had  time 
to  bring  everything  in  the  sphere  ol  religion  under  its  influence. 
It  had  discovered  its  points  of  contact  with  the  highest  aspirations 
of  the  Greek  thought  which  on  intellectual  lines  felt  its  way  tow  ards 
God.  And  it  had  unfolded  its  own  corollaries :  it  had  drawn 

Samuel,  David,  are  all  in  this  sense  prophets.  Yet  there  js  no  appear¬ 
ance  of  a  later  age  forming  a  past  in  its  own  likeness.  fhe  prophets 
do  not  imagine  an  earlier  row  of  prophets  like  themselves,  put  in  like  the 
portraits  of  the  earlv  Scottish  kings  at  Holyrood,  to  fill  the  blanks  of  history. 
The  early  figures  are  not  cut  to  prophetic  pattern  ;  they  have  each  then  dis¬ 
tinct  individuality  of  character  and  office,  only  they  have  a  unity  of  Divine 
commission  and  service. 


143 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ . 

along  with  it  the  great  spiritual  truths  which  cohere  with  the  belief 
in  one  Living  and  True  God  :  and  Israel  in  the  Pharisee  epoch  had 
passed,  we  hardly  know  how,  into  secure,  if  not  undisputed,  posses¬ 
sion  of  the  belief  in  a  future  life,  in  a  world  of  spirits,  and  in  the 
spiritual  character  of  prayer. 

But  there  was  another  and  more  direct  manner,  in  which  the 
work  of  history  interlaced  with  what  we  have  indicated  as  the  work 
of  the  law.  In  the  formation  of  the  temper  of  chastened  confidence 
which  is  so  characteristic  of  later  Israel,  a  part  must  evidently  be 
given  to  the  discipline  of  national  experience  saddened  by  departed 
glory,  and  with  the  shadows  thickening  over  it.  Just  as  we  can 
see  that  the  populations  of  the  Empire  were  in  a  sense  more  ready 
to  learn  of  Christ  than  the  young  self-reliant  Greeks  of  Sparta  or 
Athens  could  have  been,  so  we  can  see  in  such  language  as  that  of 
the  119th  Psalm  or  of  the  9th  chapter  of  Daniel  a  temper  to  which 
the  meek  and  lowly  Christ  would  make  an  appeal  which  might 
have  been  lost  upon  the  rough  times  of  the  judges  or  the  prosper¬ 
ous  age  of  the  monarchy.  Old  age  has  come,  and  with  it  the  wis¬ 
dom  of  a  chastened  spirit.  This  is  not  difficult  to  see,  and  it  is 
important  to  take  it  into  account.  It  means  that  the  comparatively 
normal  discipline  of  life  has  brought  with  it  (as  doubtless  it  is 
meant  to  do  alike  in  personal  and  national  life)  a  spiritual  gain. 
But  it  is  important  to  see  how  much  of  the  process  and  the  effect 
remains  unexplained.  The  chastening  is  obvious,  but  whence  the 
confidence  ? 

It  is  in  some  far  less  normal  cause,  in  something  which  seems  dis¬ 
tinctive  of  Israel,  that  we  have  to  find  the  adequate  explanation  of 
the  whole  result.  We  have  to  ask  (as  Pascal  so  keenly  felt 1 )  why  a 
nation  records  its  failures  and  misfortunes  as  being  chastisements 
of  wilful,  repeated,  and  disgraceful  fault,  and  then  jealously  guards 
the  record  as  its  most  cherished  possession.  It  would  be  easy  to 
suggest  that  there  is  in  this  an  egotism  clothing  itself  in  humility  : 
and  to  point  out  that  this  egotism  would  explain  the  confidence 
which  still  looked  forward  to  the  future,  which  anticipated  great¬ 
ness  for  an  ‘  afflicted  and  poor  people,’  and  a  blessing  to  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth  from  its  own  history.  Only  this  is  just  to  slur 
the  difficulty,  and  under  the  invidious  word  1  egotism  ’  to  disguise 
that  wonderful  instinct  of  a  destiny  and  a  mission  which  is  so 
strangely  unlike  egotism,  and  which  allowed,  or  even  produced,  in 
so  profound  a  form  the  self-condemnation  which  egotism  refuses. 

Doubtless  the  effects  of  these  preparing  forces  were  felt,  and 


1  Pens^es,  ii.  7,  §  2. 


144 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


their  meanings  discerned,  only  by  a  few.  Not  only  were  they  ‘not 
all  Israel  that  were  of  Israel/  but  the  bulk  of  the  nation  and  its 
representative  and  official  leaders  were  blind.  They  were  oft'  the 
way,  down  the  false  tracks  of  literalist  Rabbinism,  or  of  one-sided 
Essene  asceticism,  or  of  earthly  visions  of  a  restored  kingdom,  or 
(as  in  Alexandria)  of  a  philosophized  Judaism.  The  issues  were 
the  crucifixion  of  the  Lord,  and  all  which  Judaism,  without  and 
within  the  Church,  did  to  extinguish  the  Gospel  and  persecute  its 
followers  in  its  first  age.  It  is  right  to  refer  to  this,  but  there 
are  probably  few  to  whom  it  would  cause  any  difficulty.  To  the 
observer  of  the  world’s  history  it  is  a  common  sight  that  the  true 
issues  and  the  distinctive  work  of  a  people  is  worked  out  not 
by  the  many,  or  by  the  prominent,  but  by  the  few,  and  often 
the  obscure.  To  the  student  of  Jewish  history  that  which  has 
made  Israel  what  it  is  in  world-significance  appears  throughout 
the  course  of  its  history  as  a  gold  thread  running  through  a 
web  of  very  different  texture.  It  can  be  no  surprise  that  the 
end  should  be  of  a  piece  with  the  rest.  There,  in  a  climax  of  sharp¬ 
est  contrast,  we  see  the  antithesis  which  marks  the  history  through¬ 
out.  The  training  issues  in  a  St.  Mary,  a  Simeon,  in  those  who 
‘  waited  for  the  consolation  of  Israel  ’  on  the  one  side,  and  in  the 
‘  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites/  on  the  other.  The  natural 
issue  of  Israel’s  life  and  tendencies  is  seen  in  the  cold  and  sterile 
impotence  which,  because  it  is  the  ‘  corruption  of  the  best/  is  the 
most  irreversible  spiritual  ruin  ;  while  beside  and  amidst  this  there 
was  fashioned  by  a  grace  and  power  above  nature,  though  in  a 
perfectly  natural  way,  the  true  Israel  which  realize  all  that  ‘  Israel 
according  to  the  flesh  ’  professed  yet  betrayed,  guarded  yet  ob¬ 
scured.  And  if  we  have  at  all  rightly  discerned  as  a  principle  of 
Divine  preparation  that  it  should  be  negative  as  well  as  positive, 
and  should  demonstrate  to  the  world  before  Christ  was  given,  how 
little  the  world’s  own  wisdom  or  effort  could  supply  His  place,  we 
shall  not  wonder  that  time  was  thus  given  for  Israel  to  try  out  as 
it  were  its  second  experiment,  and  to  show  that  by  its  selfishness 
and  arrogance,  by  its  4  carnalness/  it  could  warp  and  distort  its 
later  spiritual  constitution,  even  more  than  its  former  temporal  one, 
out  of  all  likeness  of  what  God  would  have  it  be.  ‘The  last  state 
of  the  man  ’  was  ‘  worse  than  the  first.  ’ 1 

But  the  observation  of  these  predominant  currents  and  forms  of 
Jewish  life  and  thought  and  religion  has  this  further  value,  that  it 
shows  the  variety,  the  energy,  and  the  unlikeness  to  one  another 

1  St.  Matt.  xii.  45.  It  should  be  observed  that  the  words  were  spoken  of 
‘this  wicked  generation.’ 


* 


145 


IV.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ. 

of  the  tendencies  present  in  Israel.  They  emphasize  the  fact  that 
the  history  of  Israel  was  in  no  sense  working  itself  out  towards  the 
production  by  its  own  forces  of  the  true  religion  which  went 
forth  from  the  midst  of  it.  They  remind  us  how  intractable  the 
problem  of  finding  by  human  ingenuity  the  solution  which  could 
harmonize  in  one  issue  elements  so  powerful  and  so  alien  from  each 
other ;  which,  with  a  perfect  spiritual  liberty  could  combine  an 
assertion  of  the  permanent  value  of  the  law  ;  which  with  no  with¬ 
drawal  from,  and  despair  of  the  world  could  secure  all  that  was 
sought  by  Essene  purity  and  self-denial ;  which,  itself  utterly 
unworldly,  could  satisfy  the  idea  of  a  restored  monarchy  and  a 
glory  for  Israel ;  which  while  bringing  no  philosophy,  could  achieve 
what  Jewish  philosophizing  had  desired,  in  a  capture  of  the  world’s 
reason  by  Jewish  truth. 


III.  In  the  last  words  we  touch  that  with  which  this  essay  may 
perhaps  fitly  end.  If  its  drift  has  been  in  any  sense  true,  there 
stands  before  us,  as  perhaps  the  most  striking  feature  of  the  whole 
situation,  the  co-existence  of  the  two  preparations,  the  one  gen¬ 
eral,  indirect,  contributory,  and  consisting  only  in  an  impressive 
convergence  and  centring  of  the  lines  of  ordinary  historical 
sequences  ;  the  other  special,  directly  introductory,  and  character¬ 
ized  by  the  presence  of  a  distinctive  power,  call  it  what  we  may,  a 
genius  for  religion,  or  more  truly  and  adequately  a  special  grace  of 
the  Spirit  of  God,  which  is  new  and  above  ordinary  experience, 
even  as  life  is  when  it  enters  the  rest  of  nature,  and  reason  is  when 
it  appears  in  the  world  of  life.  The  two  preparations  pursue  their 
course  unconscious  of  one  another,  almost  exclusive  of  one  another. 
Greek  wisdom  and  Roman  power  have  no  dream  of  coming  to 
receive  from  the  narrow  national  cult  of  humbled  and  subject 
Israel.  And  Israel,  even  taught  by  the  great  prophets,  could  hard¬ 
ly  find  a  place  in  her  vision  of  the  future  for  any  destiny  of  the 
nations  of  the  world.  To  this  antagonism,  or  more  strictly  this 
ignoring  of  one  another,  there  are  exceptions,  exceptions  of  the 
kind  which  emphasize  the  character  of  the  situation  which  they 
hardly  modify.  Two  streams  of  such  force  and  volume  as  those 
of  Jewish  religion  and  classical  life  or  culture  could  not  touch  and 
leave  one  altogether  uninfluenced,  though  the  influence  was  charac¬ 
teristically  different.  On  the  side  of  the  world  the  spiritual  needs 
of  individuals  caused  numbers,  not  inconsiderable,  to  receive  influ¬ 
ences  which  made  them  ready  to  act  as  seeding  ground  and  ferment 

io 


146  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

for  the  Gospel.  On  the  side  of  Israel,  the  strong  sense  of  mission 
and  of  truth  made  the  contact  with  Greek  culture  suggest  the 
ambition  to  use  it  as  a  great  instrument,  to  teach  it  to  acknowledge 
anti  witness  to  the  God  of  Israel,  who  was  God  of  the  whole  earth  ; 
and  the  results,  in  the  Greek  of  the  Septuagint  and  in  the  Helleno- 
Judaic  writings  of  Alexandria  and  elsewhere,  were  invaluable  in 
fashioning  language  and  thought  for  Christ’s  service.  But  all  the 
more  distinctly,  in  the  first  case,  does  the  antagonism,  the  gulf  fixed, 
the  mutual  aversion,  the  impossibility,  humanly  speaking,  of  fusion 
between  Jew  and  Gentile  come  out  before  our  eyes.  And  in  the 
second  case  the  unreal  romancings  of  the  Sibylline  works,  the 
apparently  isolated  work  of  Philo,  and  the  opportunism  of  a  poli¬ 
tician  like  Josephus,  have  all  the  character  of  hybrids,  and  show  no 
sign  of  the  vital  fusion  by  which  out  of  a  great  wedlock  a  new 
thing  comes  to  be. 

The  two  preparations  stand  apart :  they  go  their  own  wTay. 
There  is  indeed  in  them  a  strange  parallelism  of  common  human 
experience  and  human  need.  Both  have  tried  their  experiments, 
made  their  ventures,  won  their  successes,  gone  through  their  dis¬ 
ciplines  of  disenchantment  and  failure.  Both  are  conscious  of  the 
dying  of  life  :  in  Israel  there  is  ‘  no  prophet  more outside  it 
philosophy  has  not  the  creativeness  and  energy  of  youth,  but  the 
quiet  acquiescence  and  mild  prudence  of  age,  and  life,  public  and 
private,  is  without  adequate  scope  or  aim.  In  both  the  ‘  tenden¬ 
cies  towards’  a  Gospel  are  as  far  as  possible  from  making  a  ‘ten¬ 
dency  to  produce  ’  one.  In  both  there  is  the  same  desire  for  which 
the  Jew  alone  can  find  conscious  expression  ;  it  is  ‘  Quicken  me  !  * 
Both  need  life.  Both  have  no  help  in  themselves.  But  in  the 
lines  which  they  follow  and  the  hopes  which  they  frame  there 
is  neither  likeness  nor  compatibility.  ‘The  Greeks  seek  after 
wisdom.1  The  intellect,  and  those  who  are  distinctively  men  ol 
the  intellect,  can  hardly  imagine  human  advance  otherwise  than  in 
terms  of  the  intellect.  Philosophy  conceives  of  it  as  a  conquest 
of  philosophical  result,  or  even  as  an  increase  of  philosophical  ma¬ 
terial.  it  is  the  pain  of  an  advanced  and  critical  time,  like  that  of 
which  we  speak,  to  feel  this,  and  yet  to  feel  that  the  experiments 
ot  speculation  have  gone  far  enough  to  show  that  by  none  of  their 
alternative  ways  can  there  be  any  way  out  to  the  peace  of  certain 
truth.  And  yet  it  seems  that  without  abdication  of  reason,  there 
is  no  possibility  of  going  any  other  way :  the  Greeks  (and  in  this 
sense  all  the  world  was  Greek)  could  only  look  for  what  they 
wanted  in  the  form  of  a  new  philosophy. 


1  1  Cor.  i.  22. 


iv.  Preparation  in  History  for  Christ. 


147 


But  *  the  Jews  require  a  sign.’  Totally  different,  but  equally 
exclusive,  were  the  conditions  under  which  the  Jew  could  conceive 
of  a  new  epoch.  The  dread  of  exhausted  resources  did  not  haunt 
him,  for  he  looked  not  to  human  capacity,  but  to  Divine  gift  and 
interposition.  But  he  thought  that  he  knew  the  form  in  which 
such  interposition  would  come  ;  it  was  not  to  be  primarily  a 
teaching  (it  is  the  Samaritan  and  not  the  Jew  who  is  recorded  as 
expecting  in  Messiah  one  who,  ‘  when  He  is  come,  will  tell  us  all 
things  ’ 1 )  ;  it  must  appear  in  action,  ‘  with  observation,’ 2  with  pomp 
and  scenic  display,  with  signs,  and  signs  which,  in  a  very  visible  and 
tangible  sense,  should  seem  to  be  from  heaven,3  in  particular  with 
circumstances  of  triumph  and  conquest,  and  with  an  exaltation  of 
Israel  to  the  glories  of  her  monarchy  many  times  enlarged. 

Such  are  the  demands  :  the  things  sought  and  needed ;  the  con¬ 
ditions  prescribed  :  definite,  severally  uncompromising,  mutually 
unlike,  and  even  conflicting.  And  then  from  out  of  Israel,  without 
moral  or  political  earthquake,  without  overwhelming  display  of 
supernatural  force,  nay  even,  to  a  superficial  eye,  with  all  the 
appearance  of  weakness  and  failure,  without  any  rescue  for  Israel, 
with  no  attempt  to  present  itself  in  philosophical  form,  with  none 
of  the  strain  and  elaboration  of  a  conscious  effort  to  combine  many 
in  one,  but  rather  with  a  paradoxical  and  offending  1  simplicity  ’  and 
‘  foolishness  ’  of  mere  assertion,  —  there  comes  forth  a  Thing  in 
which  on  the  one  side  Jews  —  whom  we  all  recognize  to  be  the 
best  Jews,  Jews  in  the  truest  and  deepest  sense — find  the  whole 
spirit  and  meaning,  even  down  to  its  detail,  of  the  life  and  the  hope 
of  Israel  summed  up  and  fulfilled  ;  which  left  them  no  sense  of  dis¬ 
appointment,  but  rather  a  consciousness  of  having  had  hopes  only 
too  narrow  and  low ;  which  gave  them  the  exulting  sense  of 
‘  reigning  as  kings,’  with  a  ‘  King  of  Israel :  ’  while  on  the  other  side 
this  same  Thing  was  felt  by  ‘  Greeks  ’  as  a  ‘  wisdom  ’  flooding  their 
reasons  with  a  light  of  truth  and  wisdom  ( sophia ),  which  met  the 
search  of  philosophy  (philo-sophia4)  but  also  in  simple  and  wise  alike 
drew  forth  and  ministered  to  needs  which  philosophy  had  but  half 
seen  and  wholly  failed  to  satisfy,  enabling  conscience  to  be  candid 
and  yet  at  peace,  building  up  a  new  cosmopolitan  fellowship,  and 
restoring  to  human  life  dignity  and  value,  not  only  in  phrase  and 

1  St.  John  iv.  25.  2  St.  Luke  xvii.  20. 

3  St.  Matt.  xii.  38  ;  St.  John  vi.  30,  31,  in  each  case  following  some  of  our 

Lord’s  own  signs. 

4  This  comes  before  us  vividly  in  Justin  Martyr’s  account  of  his  own  con¬ 
version.  Dial.  c.  Tryph.  3  ff.  ‘Thus  and  for  this  reason  I  am  a  philoso¬ 
pher.’ 


148 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation, 


theory,  but  in  truth.  ‘  There  came  forth  a  Thing,’  or  rather  there 
came  forth  One,  in  Whom  all  this  was  done.  The  question  arises, 
‘Whom  say  we  that  He  is?’  And  though  the  answer  must  be 
reached  in  different  ways  by  different  men,  and  the  witness  to  Him 
in  Whom  is  the  sum  of  all,  must  needs  be  of  many  kinds ;  yet  the 
convergence  of  many  lines  (as  we  have  been  permitted  to  trace  it) 
to  One  in  Whom  they  are  all  combined  and  yet  transcended,  to  One 
Whom  they  can  usher  in  but  were  powerless  to  produce,  may  be  no 
slight  corroboration  of  the  answer  which  was  accepted,  as  we  have 
to  remember,  by  the  lowly  Jesus  with  significant  solemnity:  ‘Thou 
art  the  Christ,’  the  Fulfiller  of  all  high  and  inspired  Jewish  hope  ; 
‘  the  Son  of  the  Living  God,’ 1  His  Son,  —  as  the  Son  of  Man,  in 
Whom  all  that  is  human  reaches  fulness ;  and  as  the  Son  of  God, 
Who  brings  down  to  man  what  he  has  been  allowed  to  prove  to 
himself  that  he  cannot  discover  or  create. 


1  St.  Matt.  xvi.  16. 


V. 

THE  INCARNATION  AND  DEVELOPMENT. 


J.  R.  ILLINGWORTH. 


/ 


V. 


THE  INCARNATION  AND  DEVELOPMENT. 


I.  The  last  few  years  have  witnessed  the  gradual  acceptance  by 
Christian  thinkers  of  the  great  scientific  generalization  of  our  age, 
which  is  briefly,  if  somewhat  vaguely,  described  as  the  Theory  of 
Evolution.  History  has  repeated  itself,  and  another  of  the  ‘  oppo¬ 
sitions  of  science  ’  to  theology  has  proved  upon  inquiry  to  be  no 
opposition  at  all.  Such  oppositions  and  reconciliations  are  older 
than  Christianity,  and  are  part  of  what  is  often  called  tne  dialec¬ 
tical  movement ;  the  movement,  that  is  to  say,  by  question  and 
answer,  out  of  which  all  progress  comes.  But  the  result  of  such 
a  process  is  something  more  than  the  mere  repetition  of  a  twice- 
told  tale.  It  is  an  advance  in  our  theological  thinking  ;  a  definite 
increase  of  insight  ;  a  fresh  and  fuller  appreciation  of  those  ‘  many 
ways  ’  in  which  ‘  God  fulfils  Himself.’  For  great  scientific  discov¬ 
eries,  like  the  heliocentric  astronomy,  are  not  merely  new  facts  to  be 
assimilated  ;  they  involve  new  ways  of  looking  at  things.  And  this 
has  been  pre-eminently  the  case  with  the  law  of  evolution  ;  which, 
once  observed,  has  rapidly  extended  to  every  department  of 
thought  and  history,  and  altered  our  attitude  towards  all  knowl¬ 
edge.  Organisms,  nations,  languages,  institutions,  customs,  creeds, 
have  all  come  to  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  their  development,  and 
we  feel  that  to  understand  what  a  thing  really  is.  we  must  examine 
how  it  came  to  be.  Evolution  is  in  the  air.  It  is  the  category  of 
the  age  ;  a  ‘  partus  temporis  a  necessary  consequence  of  our 
wider  field  of  comparison.  We  cannot  place  ourselves  outside 
it.  or  limit  the  scope  of  its  operation.  And  our  religious  opinions, 
like  all  things  else  that  have  come  down  on  the  current  of  develop¬ 
ment,  must  justify  their  existence  by  an  appeal  to  the  past. 

It  is  the  object  of  the  following  pages  to  consider  what  popular 
misconceptions  of  the  central  doctrine  of  our  religion,  the  Incar¬ 
nation,  have  been  remedied  ;  what  more  or  less  forgotten  aspects 
of  it  have  been  restored  to  their  due  place ;  what  new  lights  have 


152 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


been  thrown  upon  the  fulness  of  its  meaning,  in  the  course  of  -our 
discussion  of  the  various  views  of  evolution. 

In  face  of  the  historical  spirit  of  the  age,  the  study  of  past  theo¬ 
logy  can  never  again  be  regarded  as  merely  a  piece  of  religious 
antiquarianism.  And  there  are  two  classes  of  mind  to  which  it 
should  be  of  especial  service.  Many  an  earnest  worker  in  the 
Christian  cause,  conscious  how  little  the  refinements  of  philosophy 
can  influence  for  good  or  evil  the  majority  of  men,  and  generously 
impatient  of  all  labor  wasted,  when  the  laborers  are  so  few,  is  apt 
to  underestimate  what  he  considers  the  less  practical  departments 
of  theology ;  forgetful  that  there  are  souls,  and  those  among  the 
noblest,  to  whom  the  primary  avenue  of  access  is  the  intellect,  and 
who  can  only  be  led  homeward  by  the  illuminative  way.  The 
Christian  of  this  type  may  be  materially  helped  towards  welcom¬ 
ing  wider  views,  by  being  convinced  that  what  he  has  been  too 
easily  apt  to  regard  as  metaphysical  subtleties,  or  as  dangerous 
innovations,  or  as  questionable  accommodations  of  the  Gospel  to 
the  exigencies  of  passing  controversy,  are,  after  all,  an  integral  part 
of  the  great  Catholic  tradition.  On  the  other  hand,  many  plau¬ 
sible  attacks  upon  the  Christian  creed  are  due  to  the  inadequate 
methods  of  its  professed  interpreters.  •  Fragments  of  doctrine, 
torn  from  their  context  and  deprived  of  their  due  proportions,  are 
brandished  in  the  eyes  of  men  by  well-meaning  but  ignorant  apolo¬ 
gists  as  containing  the  sum  total  of  the  Christian  faith,  with  the 
lamentable  consequence  that  even  earnest  seekers  after  truth,  and 
much  more  its  unearnest  and  merely  factious  adversaries,  mislead 
themselves  and  others  into  thinking  Christianity  discredited,  when 
in  reality  they  have  all  along  been  only  criticising  its  caricature. 
Such  men  need  reminding  that  Christianity  is  greater  than  its  iso¬ 
lated  interpreters  or  misinterpreted  in  any  age ;  that  in  the  course 
of  its  long  history  it  has  accumulated  answers  to  many  an  objection 
which  they  in  their  ignorance  think  new  ;  and  that,  in  the  confidence 
of  its  universal  mission  and  the  memory  of  its  many  victories,  it 
still  claims  to  be  sympathetic,  adequate,  adaptable  to  the  problems 
and  perplexities  of  each  successive  age. 

The  general  tendency  of  thought  since  the  Reformation  has 
been  in  the  direction  of  these  partial  presentations  of  Christianity. 
The  Reformers,  from  various  causes,  were  so  occupied  with  what 
is  now  called  Soteriology,  or  the  scheme  of  salvation,  that  they 
paid  but  scant  attention  to  the  other  aspects  of  the  Gospel.  And 
the  consequence  was  that  a  whole  side  of  the  great  Christian 
tradition,  and  one  on  which  many  of  its  greatest  thinkers  had 
lavished  the  labors  of  a  lifetime,  was  allowed  almost  unconsciously 


v.  The  Incarnation  and  Development. 


153 


to  lapse  into  comparative  oblivion ;  and  the  religion  of  the  Incar¬ 
nation  was  narrowed  into  the  religion  of  the  Atonement.  Men’s 
views  of  the  faith  dwindled  and  became  subjective  and  self-regard¬ 
ing,  while  the  gulf  was  daily  widened  between  things  sacred  and 
things  secular ;  among  which  latter,  art  and  science,  and  the  whole 
political  and  social  order,  gradually  came  to  be  classed. 

Far  otherwise  was  it  with  the  great  thinkers  of  the  early  Church ; 
and  that  not  from  an  underestimate  of  the  saving  power  of  the 
Cross,  which  was  bearing  daily  fruit  around  them,  of  penitence, 
and  sanctity,  and  martyrdom,  but  from  their  regarding  Christian 
salvation  in  its  context.  They  realized  that  redemption  was  a 
means  to  an  end,  and  that  end  the  reconsecration  of  the  whole 
universe  to  God.  And  so  the  very  completeness  of  their  grasp  on 
the  Atonement  led  them  to  dwell  upon  the  cosmical  significance 
of  the  Incarnation,  its  purpose  to  ‘  gather  together  all  things  in. 
one.’  For  it  was  an  age  in  which  the  problems  of  the  universe 
were  keenly  felt.  Philosophical  thinking,  if  less  mature,  was  not 
less  exuberant  than  now,  and  had  already  a  great  past  behind  it. 
And  the  natural  world,  though  its  structural  secrets  were  little 
understood,  fascinated  the  imagination  and  strained  the  heart  with 
its  appealing  beauty.  Spiritualism,  superstition,  scepticism,  were 
tried  in  turn,  but  could  not  satisfy.  The  questionings  of  the  intel¬ 
lect  still  pressed  for  a  solution.  And  the  souls  of  Christians  were 
stirred  to  proclaim  that  the  new  power  which  they  felt  within 
them,  restoring,  quickening,  harmonizing  the  whole  of  their  inner 
life,  would  also  prove  the  key  to  all  these  mysteries  of  matter  and 
of  mind. 

So  it  was  that  the  theology  of  the  Incarnation  was  gradually 
drawn  out,  from  the  teaching  of  St.  Paul  and  of  St.  John.  The 
identity  of  Him  Who  was  made  man  and  dwelt  among  us,  with 
Him  by  Whom  all  things  were  made  and  by  Whom  all  things 
consist ;  His  eternal  pre-existence  as  the  reason  and  the  word  of 
God,  the  Logos  ;  His  indwelling  presence  in  the  universe  as  the 
source  and  condition  of  all  its  life,  and  in  man  as  the  light  of  his 
intellectual  being;  His  Resurrection,  His  Ascension,  —  all  these 
thoughts  were  woven  into  one  magnificent  picture,  wherein  crea¬ 
tion  was  viewed  as  the  embodiment  of  the  Divine  ideas,  and 
therefore  the  revelation  of  the  Divine  character ;  manifesting  its 
Maker  with  increasing  clearness  at  each  successive  stage  in  the 
great  scale  of  being,  till  in  the  fulness  of  time  He  Himself  became 
man,  and  thereby  lifted  human  nature,  and  with  it  the  material 
universe  to  which  man  is  so  intimately  linked  ;  and  triumphing 
over  the  sin  and  death  under  which  creation  groaned  and  trav- 


15  4  77/^  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

ailed,  opened  by  His  Resurrection  and  then  by  His  Ascension 
vistas  of  the  glorious  destiny  purposed  for  His  creatures  before  the 
world  was.  ‘  Factus  est  quod  sumus  nos,  uti  nos  perficeret  esse 
quod  est  ipse.’ 1 

Such  is  the  view  of  the  Incarnation  in  what  may  be  called  its 
intellectual  aspect,  which  we  find  gradually  expressed  with  increas¬ 
ing  clearness  by  the  Fathers,  from  Justin  to  Athanasius.  And 
with  all  its  deep  suggestiveness,  it  is  still  a  severely  simple  picture, 
drawn  in  but  few  outlines,  and  those  strictly  scriptural.  It  was 
born  of  no  abstract  love  of  metaphysic,  and  stands  in  striking 
contrast  to  the  wild  speculations  of  the  time.  Its  motive  and  its 
method  were  both  intensely  practical ;  its  motive  being  to  present 
Christianity  to  the  mind  as  well  as  to  the  heart;  and  its  method 
no  more  than  to  connect  and  interpret  and  explain  the  definite 
statements  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  John.  Passing  over  the  dark  ages, 
when  thought  was  in  comparative  abeyance,  and  the  energies  of 
the  Church  absorbed  in  the  work  of  conversion  and  organization, 
we  come,  in  the  twelfth  and  following  centuries,  to  a  second 
period  of  intellectual  ferment,  less  brilliant  than  that  which  char¬ 
acterized  the  decadence  of  the  old  civilization,  but  instinct  with 
all  the  fire  and  restlessness  of  youth.  Unsobered  as  yet  by  expe¬ 
rience,  and  unsupplied  with  adequate  material  from  without, 
thought  preyed  upon  itself  and  revelled  in  its  new-found  powers 
of  speculation.  Fragments  of  the  various  heresies  which  the 
Fathers  had  answered  and  outlived  reappeared  with  all  the  halo  of 
novelty  around  them.  Religions  were  crudely  compared  and 
sceptical  inferences  drawn.  Popular  unbelief,  checked  in  a  meas¬ 
ure  by  authority,  avenged  itself  by  ridicule  of  all  things  sacred. 
It  was  a  period  of  intense  intellectual  unrest,  too  many  sided  and 
inconsequent  to  be  easily  described.  But  as  far  as  the  anti-Chris¬ 
tian  influences  of  the  time  can  be  summarized,  they  were  mainly 
two, — the  Arabic  pantheism,  and  the  materialism  which  was  fos¬ 
tered  in  the  medical  schools :  kindred  errors,  both  concerned 
with  an  undue  estimate  of  matter.  And  how  did  Christian  the¬ 
ology  meet  them?  Not  by  laying  stress,  like  the  later  Deists, 
upon  God’s  infinite  distance  from  the  world,  but  upon  the  close¬ 
ness  of  His  intimacy  with  it ;  by  reviving,  that  is,  with  increased 
emphasis,  the  Patristic  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation,  as  the  climax 
and  the  keystone  of  the  whole  visible  creation.  There  is  a  greater 
divergence  of  opinion,  perhaps,  among  the  Schoolmen  than 
among  the  Fathers  ;  and  a  far  greater  amount  of  that  unprofitable 


1  Irenasus. 


v.  The  Incarnation  and  Development. 


155 


subtlety  for  which  they  are  apt  to  be  somewhat  too  unintelligently 
ridiculed.  But  on  the  point  before  11s,  as  on  all  others  of  primary 
importance,  they  are  substantially  unanimous,  and  never  fail  in 
dignity. 

‘  As  the  thought  of  the  Divine  mind  is  called  the  Word,  Who  is 
the  Son,  so  the  unfolding  of  that  thought  in  external  action  ( per 
Optra  exteriora )  is  named  the  word  of  the  Word.’  1 

‘  The  whole  world  is  a  kind  of  bodily  and  visible  Gospel  of  that 
Word  by  which  it  was  created.’ 2 

‘  PI  very  creature  is  a  theophany.’ 8 

‘  Every  creature  is  a  Divine  word,  for  it  tells  of  God.’  4 

‘ The  wisdom  of  God,  when  first  it  issued  in  creation,  came  not 
to  us  naked,  but  clothed  in  the  apparel  of  created  things.  And 
then  when  the  same  wisdom  would  manifest  Himself  to  us  as  the 
Son  of  God,  He  took  upon  Him  a  garment  of  flesh,  and  so  was 
seen  of  men.’  5 

‘The  Incarnation  is  the  exaltation  of  human  nature  and  con¬ 
summation  of  the  Universe.’ G 

Such  quotations  might  be  multiplied  indefinitely  from  the  pages 
of  the  Schoolmen  and  scholastic  theologians.  And  the  line  of 
thought  which  they  indicate  seems  to  lead  us  by  a  natural  sequence 
to  view  the  Incarnation  as  being  the  predestined  climax  of  crea¬ 
tion,  independently  of  human  sin.  The  thought  is  of  course  a 
mere  speculation,  ‘beyond  that  which  is  written,’  but  from  its  first 
appearance  in  the  twelfth  century  it  has  been  regarded  with 
increasing  favor ;  for  it  is  full  of  rich  suggestiveness,  and  seems 
to  throw  a  deeper  meaning  into  all  our  investigations  of  the  world’s 
gradual  development. 

Again,  from  the  relation  of  the  Word  to  the  universe  follows 
His  relation  to  the  human  mind.  For  ‘  that  life  was  the  light  of 
men.’ 

‘  The  created  intellect  is  the  imparted  likeness  of  God,’  says 
St.  Thomas  ;  and  again,  ‘  Every  intellectual  process  has  its  origin 
in  the  Word  of  God  Who  is  the  Divine  Reason.’  ‘  The  light  of 
intellect  is  imprinted  upon  us  by  God  Himself  {immediate  a 
Deo)i  c  God  continually  works  in  the  mind,  as  being  both  the 
cause  and  the  guide  of  its  natural  light.’  ‘  In  every  object  of 
sensitive  or  rational  experience  God  Himself  lies  hid.’ 7  ‘  All 

V; 

1  St.  Thom  Aq  ,  c.  Gent.,  iv.  13. 

2  H  de  Boseham  (Migne),  v.  190,  p.  1353. 

3  Scot.  Er.  (Migne),  v  122,  p.  302.  4  St.  Bonav  ,  In  Eccles.,  ci.  t.  ix. 

5  H  de  St.  Victor  (Migne),  v.  1 77,  p.  5^0. 

6  St.  Thom.  Aquinas.  7  St.  lJonav.  de  Reduct.,  sub  fin. 


156 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


intelligences  know  God  implicitly,  in  every  object  of  their  knowl¬ 
edge.’  1  ‘  Christ  is  our  internal  teacher,  and  no  truth  of  any  kind 

is  known  but  through  Him  ;  though  He  speaks  not  in  language 
as  we  do,  but  by  interior  illumination.’ 2  ‘  The  philosophers  have 

taught  us  the  sciences,  for  God  revealed  them  to  them.’ 3 

II.  The  point  to  be  noticed  in  the  teaching  of  which  such  pas¬ 
sages  are  scattered  samples,  is  that  the  Schoolmen  and  orthodox 
mystics  of  the  middle  age,  with  Pantheism,  materialism,  rational¬ 
ism  surging  all  around  them,  and  perfectly  conscious  of  the  fact, 
met  these  errors,  not  by  denying  the  reality  of  matter,  or  the  capa¬ 
city  of  reason,  as  later  apologists  have  often  done,  but  by  claiming 
for  both  a  place  in  the  Theology  of  the  Word.  And  this  Theology 
of  the  Word  was,  in  reality,  quite  independent  of,  and  unaffected 
by,  the  subtleties  and  fallacies  and  false  opinions  of  the  age,  cob¬ 
webs  of  the  unfurnished  intellect  which  time  has  swept  away.  It 
was  a  magnificent  framework,  outside  and  above  the  limited  knowl¬ 
edge  of  the  day  and  the  peculiarities  of  individual  thinkers ;  an 
inheritance  from  the  Patristic  tradition,  which  the  Fathers,  in  their 
turn,  had  not  invented,  but  received  as  Apostolic  doctrine  from 
Apostolic  men,  and  only  made  more  explicit  by  gradual  definition, 
during  centuries  when,  it  has  been  fairly  said,  i  the  highest  reason, 
as  independently  exercised  by  the  wise  of  the  world,  was  entirely 
coincident  with  the  highest  reason  as  inspiring  the  Church.’4  We 
have  now  to  consider  whether  this  view  of  the  Incarnation,  which, 
though  in  the  countries  most  influenced  by  the  Reformation  it  has 
dropped  too  much  out  of  sight,  has  yet  never  really  died  out  of  the 
Church  at  large,  is  in  any  way  incompatible  with  the  results  of  mod¬ 
ern  science  ;  or  whether,  on  the  contrary,  it  does  not  provide  an 
outline  to  which  science  is  slowly  but  surely  giving  reality  and 
content. 

And  at  the  outset  we  must  bear  in  mind  one  truth  which  is  now 
recognized  on  all  sides  as  final,  —  viz.,  that  the  finite  intellect  can¬ 
not  transcend  the  conditions  of  finitude,  and  cannot  therefore  reach 
or  even  conceive  itself  as  reaching,  an  absolute,  or,  in  Kantian 
'  phraseology,  a  speculative  knowledge  of  the  beginning  of  things. 
Whatever  strides  science  may  make  in  time  to  come  towards 
decomposing  atoms  and  forces  into  simpler  and  yet  simpler  ele¬ 
ments,  those  elements  will  still  have  issued  from  a  secret  laboratory 
into  which  science  cannot  enter,  and  the  human  mind  will  be  as 
far  as  ever  from  knowing  what  they  really  are.  Further,  this  initial 
limitation  must  of  necessity  qualify  our  knowledge  in  its  every 

1  St.  Thom.  Aq.,  de  Verit.,  22,  2,  I.  2  St.  Bonav.,  Lum.  Eccles.  S.  12. 

8  Id.,  Lum.  Eccles.  S.  5.  4  Mark  Pattison. 


V.  The  Incarnation  and  Development .  157 

stase.  If  we  cannot  know  the  secret  of  the  elements  in  their  sim- 
plicity,  neither  can  we  know  the  secret  of  their  successive  combina¬ 
tions.  Before  the  beginning  of  our  present  system,  and  behind  the 
whole  course  of  its  continuous  development,  there  is  a  vast  region 
of  possibility,  which  lies  wholly  and  forever  beyond  the  power  of 
science  to  affirm  or  to  deny.  It  is  in  this  region  that  Christian 
theology  claims  to  have  its  roots,  and  of  this  region  that  it  pro¬ 
fesses  to  give  its  adherents  certitude,  under  conditions  and  by 
methods  of  its  own.  And  of  those  conditions  and  methods  it  fear¬ 
lessly  asserts  that  they  are  nowise  inconsistent  with  any  ascertained 
or  ascertainable  result  of  secular  philosophy. 

As  regards  the  origin  of  things,  this  is  obvious.  Science  may 
resolve  the  complicated  life  of  the  material  universe  into  a  few  ele¬ 
mentary  forces,  light,  and  heat,  and  electricity,  and  these  perhaps 
into  modifications  of  some  still  simpler  energy  ;  but  of  the  origin  of 
energy  (to  rrpCoTov  klvovv)  it  knows  no  more  than  did  the  Greeks  of 
old.  Theology  asserts  that  in  the  beginning  was  the  Word,  and  in 
Him  was  life,  the  life  of  all  things  created;  in  other  words,  that 
He  is  the  source  of  all  that  energy,  whose  persistent,  irresistible 
versatility  of  action  is  forever  at  work  moulding  and  clothing  and 
peopling  worlds.  The  two  conceptions  are  complementary,  and 
cannot  contradict  each  other. 

But  to  pass  from  the  origin  to  the  development  of  things :  the 
new  way  of  looking  at  nature  was  thought  at  first  both  by  its  adhe¬ 
rents  and  opponents  alike  to  be  inimical  to  the  doctrine  of  final 
causes.  And  here  was  a  direct  issue  joined  with  Theology  at  once  ; 
for  the  presence  of  final  causes  or  design  in  the  universe  has  not 
only  been  in  all  ages  one  of  the  strongest  supports  for  natural 
religion,  it  is  contained  in  the  very  notion  of  a  rational  creation,  a 
creation  by  an  Eternal  Reason.  And  this  was  supposed  to  be 
directly  negatived  by  the  doctrine  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest 
through  natural  selection  ;  for  if  of  a  thousand  forms,  which  came 
by  chance  into  existence,  the  one  which  happened  to  correspond 
best  with  its  environment  survived,  while  the  remainder  disappeared, 
the  adaptation  of  the  survivor  to  its  circumstances  would  have  all 
the  appearance  of  design,  while  in  reality  due  to  accident.  If, 
therefore,  this  principle  acted  exclusively  throughout  the  universe, 
the  result  would  be  a  semblance  of  design  without  any  of  its  reality, 
from  which  no  theological  inference  could  be  drawn.  But  this 
consequence  of  natural  selection  obviously  depends  upon  the 
exclusiveness  of  its  action.  If  it  is  only  one  factor  among  many  in 
the  world’s  development,  while  there  are  instances  of  adaptation 
in  nature,  and  those  the  more  numerous,  for  which  it  fails  to  account, 


1 5  S  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

what  has  been  called  its  dysteleological  significance  is  at  an  end. 
Now  its  own  author  soon  saw  and  admitted  the  inadequacy  of  the 
theory  of  natural  selection,  even  in  biology,  the  field  of  its  first 
observation,  to  account  for  all  the  facts ;  while  countless  phenom¬ 
ena  in  other  regions,  such  as  the  mechanical  principles  involved  in 
the  structure  of  the  universe,  the  laws  of  crystallography  and  chem¬ 
ical  combination,  the  beauty  of  nature  taken  in  connection  with  its 
effect  upon  the  mind,  irresistibly  suggest  design,  and  render  the 
alternative  hypothesis,  from  its  mere  mathematical  improbability, 
almost  inconceivable.  And  there  is  now,  therefore,  a  general  dis¬ 
position  to  admit  that  the  force  of  this  particular  attack  upon  the 
doctrine  of  final  causes  has  been  considerably  overstated. 

But  in  the  course  of  its  discussion  an  important  difference  has 
been  brought  to  light  between  external  and  internal  purposes  or 
ends.  The  kind  of  design  in  nature  which  first  arrested  early  think¬ 
ers  was  its  usefulness  to  man.  Even  in  scenery,  it  has  been  sug¬ 
gested,  they  saw  the  utility  before  the  beauty.  And  so  they  came 
to  look  upon  all  natural  phenomena  as  having  for  their  final  cause 
the  good  of  man ;  and  the  world  as  a  machine,  a  contrivance  of 
which  the  parts  have  no  value  except  as  contributing  to  the  work 
of  the  whole,  and  the  whole  exists  only  to  produce  a  result  outside 
and  independent  of  itself,  an  external  end,  as  if  corn  should  exist 
solely  to  provide  food  for  man.  This  was  not  an  untrue  concep¬ 
tion  ;  a  shallow  thing  to  say  of  the  reason  for  which  Socrates 
believed  in  God  :  but  it  was  partial  and  inadequate,  as  Bacon  and 
Spinoza  showed.  And  we  have  now  come  to  regard  the  world,  not 
as  a  machine,  but  as  an  organism,  a  system  in  which,  while  the 
parts  contribute  to  the  growth  of  the  whole,  the  whole  also  reacts 
upon  the  development  of  the  parts  ;  and  whose  primary  purpose  is 
its  own  perfection,  something  that  is  contained  within  and  not 
outside  itself,  an  internal  end  :  while  in  their  turn  the  myriad  parts 
of  this  universal  organism  are  also  lesser  organisms,  ends  in  and  for 
themselves,  pursuing  each  its  lonely  ideal  of  individual  complete¬ 
ness.  Now  when  we  look  at  nature  in  this  way,  and  watch  the 
complex  and  subtle  processes  by  which  a  crystal,  a  leaf,  a  lily,  a 
moth,  a  bird,  a  star  realize  their  respective  ideals  with  undisturbed, 
unfailing  accuracy,  we  cannot  help  attributing  them  to  an  intelli¬ 
gent  Creator.  But  when  we  further  find  that  in  the  very  course  of 
pursuing  their  primary  ends,  and  becoming  perfect  after  their  kind, 
the  various  parts  of  the  universe  do  in  fact  also  become  means,  and 
with  infinite  ingenuity  of  correspondence  and  adaptation,  subserve 
not  only  one  but  a  thousand  secondary  ends,  linking  and  weaving 
themselves  together  by  their  mutual  ministration  into  an  orderly, 


V.  The  Incarnation  and  Development. 


159 


harmonious,  complicated  whole,  the  signs  of  intelligence  grow 
clearer  still.  And  when,  beyond  all  this,  we  discover  the  quality  of 
beauty  in  every  moment  and  situation  of  this  complex  life  ;  the 
drop  of  water  that  circulates  from  sea  to  cloud,  and  cloud  to  earth, 
and  earth  to  plant,  and  plant  to  life  blood,  shining  the  while  with 
strange  spiritual  significance  in  the  sunset  and  the  rainbow  and  the 
dewdrop  and  the  tear  ;  the  universal  presence  of  this  attribute,  so 
unessential  to  the  course  of  nature,  but  so  infinitely  powerful  in  its 
appeal  to  the  human  mind,  is  reasonably  urged  as  a  crowning  proof 
of  purposeful  design. 

The  treatment  which  these  various  aspects  of  teleology  have 
received,  during  the  last  few  years,  may  be  fairly  called  exhaustive  ; 
and  the  result  of  all  the  sifting  controversy  has  been  to  place  the 
evidence  for  design  in  nature  on  a  stronger  base  than  ever  :  partly 
because  we  feel  that  we  have  faced  the  utmost  that  can  be  urged 
against  it ;  partly  because,  under  scientific  guidance,  we  have 
acquired  a  more  real,  as  distinct  from  a  merely  notional  apprehen¬ 
sion  of  the  manifold  adaptations  of  structure  to  function,  which 
the  universe  presents ;  and  these  adaptations  and  correspondences, 
when  grasped  in  their  infinite  multiplicity,  furnish  11s  with  a  far 
worthier  and  grander  view  of  teleology  than  the  mechanical  theory 
of  earlier  days. 

All  this  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  our  Christian  creed,  that  all 
things  were  made  by  the  Eternal  Reason  ;  but  more  than  this,  it 
illustrates  and  is  illustrated  by  the  further  doctrine  of  His  indwell¬ 
ing  presence  in  the  things  of  His  creation  ;  rendering  each  of 
them  at  once  a  revelation  and  a  prophecy,  a  thing  of  beauty  and 
finished  workmanship,  worthy  to  exist  for  its  own  sake,  and  yet  a 
step  to  higher  purposes,  an  instrument  for  grander  work. 

‘  God  tastes  an  infinite  joy 
In  infinite  ways  —  one  everlasting  bliss, 

From  whom  all  being  emanates,  all  power 
Proceeds ;  in  whom  is  life  for  evermore, 

Yet  whom  existence  in  its  lowest  form 
Includes;  where  dwells  enjoyment,  there  is  He: 

With  still  a  flying  point  of  bliss  remote, 

A  happiness  in  store  afar,  a  sphere 
Of  distant  glory  in  full  view/ 

And  science  has  done  us  good  service  in  recalling  this  doctrine 
to  mind.  For  it  has  a  religious  as  well  as  a  theological  importance, 
constituting,  as  it  does,  the  element  of  truth  in  that  higher  Panthe¬ 
ism  which  is  so  common  in  the  present  day.  Whether  the  term 
‘  higher  Pantheism  ’  is  happily  chosen  or  not,  the  thing  which  it 


i6o 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


denotes  is  quite  distinct  from  Pantheism  proper,  with  its  logical 
denial  of  human  personality  and  freedom.  It  is  the  name  of  an  emo¬ 
tion  rather  than  a  creed  ;  that  indescribable  mystic  emotion  which 
the  poet,  the  artist,  the  man  of  science,  and  all  their  kindred  feel 
in  contemplating  the  beauty  or  the  wonder  of  the  world.  Vague 
as  it  is,  and  indefinite,  this  sentiment  is  still  one  of  the  strongest 
of  which  our  nature  is  susceptible,  and  should  be  recognized 
as  an  integral  element  in  all  true  religion.  Yet  for  want  of  such 
recognition  on  the  part  of  Christians  it  is  often  allowed  to  gravitate 
nearer  and  nearer  to  pure  Pantheism,  with  which  it  has,  in  reality, 
no  essential  affinity.  We  cannot  therefore  overestimate  the  impor¬ 
tance  of  restoring  to  its  due  place  in  theology  the  doctrine  of  the 
Divine  immanence  in  nature  to  which  this  sentiment  is  the  instinc¬ 
tive  witness.  Fathers,  schoolmen,  mystics,  who  were  quite  as 
aiive  to  any  danger  of  Pantheism  as  ourselves,  yet  astonish  us  by 
the  boldness  of  their  language  upon  this  point ;  and  we  need  not 
fear  to  transgress  the  limits  of  the  Christian  tradition  in  saying  that 
the  physical  immanence  of  God  the  Word  in  His  creation  can 
hardly  be  overstated,  as  long  as  His  moral  transcendence  of  it  is 
also  kept  in  view. 

4  God  dwelleth  within  all  things,  and  without  all  things,  above  all 
things  and  beneath  all  things,’ 1  says  St.  Gregory  the  Great. 

‘  The  immediate  operation  of  the  Creator  is  closer  to  everything 
than  the  operation  of  any  secondary  cause,’  says  St.  Thomas.2 

And  Cornelius  a  Lapide,  after  comparing  our  dependence  upon 
God  to  that  of  a  ray  on  the  sun,  an  embyro  on  the  womb,  a  bird 
on  the  air,  concludes  with  the  words,  4  Seeing  then  that  we  are  thus 
united  to  God  physically,  we  ought  also  to  be  united  to  Him 
morally.’  3 

Here  are  three  typical  theologians,  in  three  different  ages,  not 
one  of  them  a  mystic  even,  using  as  the  language  of  sober  theology 
words  every  whit  as  strong  as  any  of  the  famous  Pantheistic  pas¬ 
sages  in  our  modern  literature  ;  and  yet  when  met  with  in  that 
literature  they  are  commonly  regarded  as  pleasing  expressions  of 
poetic  dreams,  very  far  away  from,  if  not  even  inconsistent  with 
what  is  thought  to  be  dogmatic  Christianity. 

To  sum  up,  then,  the  reopening  of  the  teleological  question  has 
not  only  led  to  its  fuller  and  more  final  answer,  but  has  inciden¬ 
tally  contributed  to  revive  among  us  an  important  aspect  of  the 
Theology  of  the  Word. 

1  Mag.  Mor.,  ii.  12.  2  St.  Thom.  Aq.,  ii.  Sent.  i.  I. 

3  In  Act.  Apost.,  c.  17.  v.  28. 


v.  The  Incarnation  and  Development.  161 

The  next  point  upon  which  the  theory  of  evolution  came  in 
contact  with  received  opinion,  was  its  account  of  the  origin  of 
man.  Man,  it  was  maintained,  in  certain  quarters,  was  only  the 
latest  and  most  complex  product  of  a  purely  material  process  of 
development.  His  reason,  with  all  its  functions  of  imagination, 
conscience,  will,  was  only  a  result  of  his  sensibility,  and  that  of  his 
nervous  tissue,  and  that  again  of  matter  less  and  less  finely  organ¬ 
ized,  till  at  last  a  primitive  protoplasm  was  reached  ;  while  what 
had  been  called  his  fall  was  in  reality  his  rise,  being  due  to  the 
fact  that  with  the  birth  of  reason  came  self-consciousness ;  or  the 
feeling  of  a  distinction  between  self  and  the  outer  world,  ripening 
into  a  sense,  and  strictly  speaking  an  illusory  sense,  of  discord 
between  the  two. 

Theologians  first  thought  it  necessary  to  contest  every  detail  of 
this  development,  beginning  with  the  antiquity  of  man ;  and  some 
are  still  inclined  to  intrench  themselves  in  one  or  two  positions 
which  they  think  impregnable,  such  as  the  essential  difference  in 
kind  between  organized  and  inorganic  matter,  or  again  between 
animal  instinct  and  the  self-conscious  reason  of  man  ;  while  others 
are  content  to  assume  a  sceptical  attitude  and  point  to  the  dis¬ 
agreement  between  the  men  of  science  themselves,  as  sufficient 
evidence  of  their  untruth.  But  none  of  these  views  are  theologi¬ 
cally  needed.  The  first  is  certainly,  the  second  possibly  unsound, 
and  the  third,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  unkind.  It  is  quite  true  that 
the  evolution  of  man  is  at  present  nothing  more  than  an  hypo¬ 
thesis,  and  an  hypothesis  open  to  very  grave  scientific  objections. 
The  attempts  to  analyze  reason  and  conscience  back  into  uncon¬ 
scious  and  unmoral  elements,  for  all  their  unquestioned  ingenuity, 
are  still  far  from  being  conclusive  ;  and  then  there  is  the  geological 
admissibility  of  the  time  which  it  would  require,  and  that  is  still  a 
matter  of  hopeless  controversy  between  scientific  experts.  And 
even  if  these  and  numerous  kindred  difficulties  were  to  be  removed 
in  time  to  come,  the  hypothesis  would  still  be  no  nearer  demon¬ 
stration  ;  for  the  only  evidence  we  can  possibly  obtain  of  prehistoric 
man  is  his  handiwork  of  one  kind  or  another,  his  implements  or 
pictures,  things  implying  the  use  of  reason.  In  other  words,  we 
can  only  prove  his  existence  through  his  rationality  ;  through  his 
having  been,  on  the  point  in  question,  identical  in  kind  with  what 
now  he  is.  And  suspense  of  judgment  therefore  upon  the  whole 
controversy  is,  at  present,  the  only  scientific  state  of  mind. 

But  there  are  facts  upon  the  other  side  :  the  undoubted  antiquity 
of  the  human  race  ;  the  gradual  growth  which  can  be  scientifically 
traced,  in  our  thought  and  language  and  morality,  and  therefore,  to 


1 62 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


the  extent  that  functions  react  upon  their  faculties,  even  in  our 
conscience  and  our  reason  too ;  and  then  the  immense  presump¬ 
tion  from  the  gathering  proofs  of  all  other  development,  that 
man  will  be  no  exception  to  the  universal  law.  All  these  positive 
indications  at  least  suggest  the  possibility  that  the  difficulties  of  the 
theory  may  one  day  vanish,  and  its  widest  chasms  close.  And  we 
cannot  therefore  be  too  emphatic  in  asserting  that  theology  would 
have  nothing  whatever  to  fear  from  such  a  result.  When  we  see 
energy  and  atoms  building  up  an  harmonious  order,  we  feel  there 
is  an  inner  secret  in  the  energy  and  atoms,  which  we  cannot  hope 
to  penetrate  by  merely  watching  them  at  work.  And  so,  when  we 
see  human  minds  and  wills  weaving  a  veil  over  the  universe,  of 
thought  and  love  and  holiness,  and  are  told  that  all  these  things 
are  but  higher  modes  of  material  nature,  we  only  feel  that  the  inner 
secret  of  material  nature  must  be  yet  more  wonderful  than  we  sup¬ 
posed.  But  though  our  wonder  may  increase,  our  difficulties  will 
not.  If  we  believe,  as  we  have  seen  that  Christian  Theology  has 
always  believed,  in  a  Divine  Creator  not  only  present  behind  the 
beginning  of  matter,  but  immanent  in  its  every  phase,  and  co-operat¬ 
ing  with  its  every  phenomenon,  the  method  of  His  working,  though 
full  of  speculative  interest,  will  be  of  no  controversial  importance. 
Time  was  when  the  different  kinds  of  created  things  were  thought 
to  be  severed  by  impassable  barriers.  But  many  of  these  barriers 
have  already  given  way  before  science,  and  species  are  seen  to  be 
no  more  independent  than  the  individuals  that  compose  them.  If 
the  remaining  barriers  between  unreason  and  reason,  or  between 
lifelessness  and  life  should  in  like  manner  one  day  vanish,  we  shall 
need  to  readjust  the  focus  of  our  spiritual  eye  to  the  enlarged 
vision,  but  nothing  more.  Our  Creator  will  be  known  to  have 
worked  otherwise  indeed  than  we  had  thought,  but  in  a  way  quite 
as  conceivable,  and  to  the  imagination  more  magnificent.  And 
all  is  alike  covered  by  the  words  ‘  without  Him  was  not  anything 
made  that  was  made  :  and  in  Him  was  life.’  In  fact  the  evolu¬ 
tionary  origin  of  man  is  a  far  less  serious  question  than  the  attack 
upon  final  causes.  Its  biblical  aspect  has  grown  insignificant  in 
proportion  as  we  have  learned  to  regard  the  Hebrew  cosmology 
in  a  true  light.  And  the  popular  outcry  which  it  raised  was  largely 
due  to  sentiment,  and  sentiment  not  altogether  untinged  by  human 
pride. 

We  may  pass  on  therefore  from  the  evolution  of  man  and  his 
mind  in  general,  to  his  various  modes  of  mental  activity  in  science 
and  philosophy  and  art.  Here  the  Christian  doctrine  is  twofold  : 
first,  that  all  the  objects  of  our  thought,  mathematical  relations, 


v.  The  Incantation  and  Development .  163 

scientific  laws,  social  systems,  ideals  of  art,  are  ideas  of  the  Divine 
Wisdom,  the  Logos,  written  upon  the  pages  of  the  world  ;  and 
secondly,  that  our  power  of  reading  them,  our  thinking  faculty 
acts  and  only  can  act  rightly  by  Divine  assistance  ;  that  the  same 
1  motion  and  power  that  impels  ’  ‘  all  objects  of  all  thought  ’  impels 
also  £  all  thinking  things.’  And  both  these  statements  are  met  by 
objection.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  urged,  there  is  no  fixity  in  the 
universe,  and  it  cannot  therefore  be  the  embodiment  of  Divine 
ideas.  All  things  live  and  move  under  our  eyes.  Species  bear  no 
evidence  of  having  been  created  in  their  completeness ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  are  perpetually  undergoing  transmutation,  and  cannot 
therefore  represent  ideas,  cannot  have  been  created  on  a  plan.  For 
ideas,  in  proportion  to  their  perfection,  must  be  definite,  clean-cut, 
clear.  The  answer  to  this  objection  is  contained  in  what  has  been 
already  said  upon  the  subject  of  organic  teleology.  But  an  anal¬ 
ogy  drawn  from  human  thinking  may  illustrate  it  further.  It  is  in 
reality  the  ideas  which  our  mind  has  done  with,  its  dead  ideas 
which  are  clean-cut  and  definite  and  fixed.  The  ideas  which  at 
any  moment  go  to  form  our  mental  life  are  quick  and  active  and 
full  of  movement,  and  melt  into  each  other  and  are  ever  develop¬ 
ing  anew.  A  book  is  no  sooner  finished  and  done  with,  than  it 
strikes  its  author  as  inadequate.  It  becomes  antiquated  as  soon  as 
its  ideas  have  been  assimilated  by  the  public  mind.  And  that 
because  the  thought  of  author  and  public  alike  is  alive,  and  ever 
moving  onward  ;  incapable  of  being  chained  to  any  one  mode  of 
expression  ;  incapable  of  being  stereotyped.  The  highest  notion 
we  can  frame  therefore  of  a  mind  greater  than  our  own  is  of  one 
that  has  no  dead  ideas,  no  abstract  or  antiquated  formulae,  but 
whose  whole  content  is  entirely,  essentially  alive.  And  the  perpet¬ 
ual  development  which  we  are  learning  to  trace  throughout  the 
universe  around  us  would  be  the  natural  expression  therefore  of 
that  Logos  Who  is  the  Life. 

But  when  we  turn  from  the  objective  to  the  subjective  side  of 
knowledge,  we  are  met  with  a  second  objection.  The  doctrine 
that  the  Divine  Logos  co-operates  with  the  human  reason,  is  , 
supposed  to  be  inconsistent  with  the  undoubted  fact  that  many 
earnest  and  successful  thinkers  have  been,  if  not  atheistic,  at  least 
agnostic  ;  unable,  that  is,  to  attain  to  the  very  knowledge  to  which, 
as  it  would  seem  on  the  Christian  hypothesis,  all  intellectual  effort 
should  inevitably  lead.  But  this  difficulty  is  only  superficial.  When 
we  say  that  the  Divine  reason  assists,  we  do  not  mean  that  it  super¬ 
sedes  the  human.  An  initiative  still  lies  with  man  ;  and  he  must 
choose  of  his  own  accord  the  particular  field  of  his  intellectual 


164  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

pursuit.  When  he  has  chosen  his  line  of  study,  and  followed  it 
with  the  requisite  devotion,  he  will  arrive  at  the  kind  of  truth  to 
which  that  particular  study  leads,  the  physicist  at  laws  of  nature, 
the  philosopher  at  laws  of  thought,  the  artist  at  ideal  beauty,  the 
moralist  at  ethical  truth;  and  in  each  case,  as  we  believe,  by  Divine 
assistance,  his  discoveries  being  in  fact  revelations.  But  the 
method,  the  education,  the  experience  involved  in  different  studies 
are  so  distinct  that  few  in  a  lifetime  can  reach  the  eminence  that 
teaches  with  authority,  or  even  the  intelligence  that  thoroughly 
appreciates,  more  than  one  department  of  the  complex  world  of 
thought.  And  if  a  man  wanders  from  his  own  province  into  unfa¬ 
miliar  regions,  he  naturally  meets  with  failure  in  proportion  to  his 
hardihood.  In  the  case  of  the  special  sciences  this  is  universally 
recognized.  No  astronomer  would  think  of  dogmatizing  on  a 
question  of  geology,  nor  a  biologist  on  the  details  of  chemistry  or 
physics.  But  when  it  is  a  question  between  science  and  philoso¬ 
phy,  the  rule  is  often  forgotten  ;  and  the  spectacle  of  scientific 
specialists  blundering  about  in  metaphysics  is  painfully  common  in 
the  present  day  :  while  strange  to  say,  in  the  case  of  theology  this 
forgetfulness  reaches  a  climax,  and  men  claim  casually  to  have  an 
opinion  upon  transcendent  mysteries,  without  any  of  the  prepara¬ 
tion  which  they  would  be  the  first  to  declare  needful  for  success  in 
the  smallest  subsection  of  any  one  of  the  branches  of  science. 

Nor  is  preparation  all  that  is  wanted.  Science  is  impossible 
without  experiment,  and  experiment  is  the  lower  analogue  of  what 
in  religion  is  called  experience.  As  experiment  alone  gives  cer¬ 
tainty  in  the  one  case,  so  does  experience  alone  in  the  other.  And 
it  is  only  the  man  who  has  undergone  such  experience,  with  all  its 
imperative  demands  upon  his  whole  character  and  life,  that  can 
justly  expect  satisfaction  of  his  religious  doubts  and  needs  ;  while 
only  those  who,  like  St.  Paul  or  St.  Augustine,  have  experienced  it 
in  an  exceptional  degree,  are  entitled  to  speak  with  authority  upon 
the  things  to  which  it  leads.  Here  again  a  human  analogy  may 
help  us.  For  in  studying  a  human  character  there  are  different 
planes  upon  which  we  may  approach  it.  There  are  the  external 
aspects  of  the  man,  the  fashion  of  his  garments,  the  routine  of  his 
life,  the  regulation  of  his  time,  his  official  habits  ;  all  which,  it  may 
be  noted  in  passing,  in  the  case  of  a  great  character,  are  uniform, 
not  because  they  were  not  once  the  free  creation  of  his  will,  but 
because  he  knows  the  practical  value  of  uniformity  in  all  such 
things  ;  and  all  these  externals  are  open  to  the  observation  even  of 
a  stranger.  Then  there  are  the  man’s  thoughts,  which  may  be 
withheld  or  revealed  at  his  pleasure ;  and  these  can  only  be  under- 


1 


v.  The  Incarnation  and  Development.  165 

stood  by  kindred  minds,  who  have  been  trained  to  understand  them. 
Lastly,  there  are  his  will  and  affections,  the  region  of  his  motives, 
the  secret  chamber  in  which  his  real  personality  resides ;  and  these 
are  only  known  to  those  intimate  friends  and  associates  whose 
intuition  is  quickened  by  the  sympathy  of  love.  Now  all  these 
stages  are  gone  through  in  the  formation  of  a  friendship.  First  we 
are  struck  by  a  man’s  appearance,  and  so  led  to  listen  to  his  con¬ 
versation,  and  thence  to  make  his  acquaintance,  and  at  last  to 
become  his  friend.  And  so  with  the  knowledge  of  God.  The  man 
of  science,  as  such,  can  discover  the  uniformities  of  His  action  in 
external  nature.  The  moral  philosopher  will  further  see  that  these 
actions  ‘  make  for  righteousness  ’  and  that  there  is  a  moral  law. 
But  it  is  only  to  the  spiritual  yearning  of  our  whole  personality 
that  He  reveals  Himself  as  a  person.  This  analogy  will  make  the 
Christian  position  intelligible  ;  but  for  Christians  it  is  more  than  an 
analogy.  It  is  simply  a  statement  of  facts.  For,  to  Christians,  the 
Incarnation  is  the  final  sanction  of  ‘  anthropomorphism,’  revealing 
the  Eternal  Word  as  strictly  a  Person,  in  the  ordinary  sense  and 
with  all  the  attributes  which  we  commonly  attach  to  the  name.1 

Consequently,  upon  all  this  we  are  quite  consistent  in  main¬ 
taining  that  all  great  teachers  of  whatever  kind  are  vehicles  of 
revelation,  each  in  his  proper  sphere,  and  in  accepting  their 
verified  conclusions  as  Divinely  true  ;  while  we  reject  them  the 
moment  they  transgress  their  limits,  as  thereby  convicted  of  unsound 
thinking,  and  therefore  deprived  of  the  Divine  assistance  which 
was  the  secret  of  their  previous  success.  And  though  such  trans¬ 
gression  may  in  many  cases  involve  a  minimum  of  moral  error,  there 
are  abundant  instances  in  the  history  of  thought  that  it  is  not  always 
so.  Francis  Bacon,  and  the  penitent,  pardoned  Abelard  are  typical, 
in  different  degrees,  of  a  countless  multitude  of  lesser  men. 

‘  For  our  knowledge  of  first  principles,’  says  St.  Augustine,  Gve 
have  recourse  to  that  inner  truth  that  presides  over  the  mind. 
And  that  indwelling  teacher  of  the  mind  is  Christ,  the  changeless 
virtue  and  eternal  wisdom  of  Cod,  to  which  every  rational  soul 
has  recourse.  But  so  much  only  is  revealed  to  each  as  his  own 
good  or  evil  will  enables  him  to  receive.’ 2 

‘  Nor  is  it  the  fault  of  the  Word,’  adds  St.  Thomas,  ‘  that  all 
men  do  not  attain  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth,  but  some  remain 
in  darkness.  It  is  the  fault  of  men  who  do  not  turn  to  the  Word 
and  so  cannot  fully  receive  Him.  Whence  there  is  still  more  or 
less  darkness  remaining  among  men,  in  proportion  to  the  lesser 


1  Cp.  p.  53. 


2  St.  Aug,  de  Mngist.,  38,  t.  i.  p.  916. 


1 66  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

or  greater  degree  in  which  they  turn  to  the  Word  and  receive  Him. 
And  so  John,  to  preclude  any  thought  of  deficiency  in  the  illumi¬ 
nating  power  of  the  Word,  after  saying  “  that  life  was  the  light  of 
men,”  adds  “  the  light  shineth  in  darkness,  and  the  darkness  com¬ 
prehended  it  not.’’  The  darkness  is  not  because  the  Word  does 
not  shine,  but  because  some  do  not  receive  the  light  of  the  Word  ; 
as  while  the  light  of  the  material  sun  is  shining  over  the  world,  it 
is  only  dark  to  those  whose  eyes  are  closed  or  feeble.’ 1 

It  has  been  necessary  to  dwell  upon  this  doctrine  because  it  has 
an  important  bearing  upon  two  further  questions,  which  the  phi¬ 
losophy  of  evolution  has  brought  into  new  prominence,  the  relation 
of  Christianity  to  previous  philosophy  and  other  religions.  It  was 
the  fashion,  not  long  ago,  to  give  an  undue  value  to  the  part  played 
by  environment  or  surrounding  circumstances  in  the  creation  of 
characters  and  institutions  and  creeds,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
elements  of  native  originality.  And  the  attempt  was  made  accord¬ 
ingly,  in  various  ways,  to  represent  Christianity  as  the  natural 
product  of  the  different  religions  and  philosophies  which  were 
current  in  the  world  at  the  time  of  its  appearing.  But  the  further 
study  of  evolution  has  qualified  this  whole  mode  of  thought  by  the 
way  in  which,  as  we  have  seen  above,  it  has  led  us  to  look  at  things 
as  organisms  rather  than  machines.  A  machine  has  no  internal 
principle  of  unity.  Its  unity  is  impressed  upon  it  from  without. 
And  it  may  be  granted  therefore,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that 
we  might  conceive  a  machine  or  number  of  machines  as  formed 
like  the  patterns  in  a  kaleidoscope  by  a  happy  coincidence  of 
atoms ;  and  man,  if  he  were  only  a  machine,  as  strictly  the  creature 
of  circumstance.  But  an  organism  is  a  different  thing.  Depend¬ 
ent  as  it  is  upon  its  environment  in  a  hundred  various  ways,  it 
is  yet  more  dependent  upon  its  own  selective  and  assimilative 
capacity,  in  other  words  upon  its  own  individuality,  its  self.  And 
so  the  notions  of  individuality,  originality,  personal  identity  have 
been  restored  to  their  place  in  the  world  of  thought.  The  old 
error  lingers  on,  and  is  sometimes  crudely  re-asserted,  especially  in 
its  anti-Christian  bearing ;  but  it  has  been  discredited  by  science, 
and  is  in  fact  a  thing  of  the  past.  And  in  consequence  of  this, 
the  attempt  can  no  longer  be  plausibly  made  to  account  for  Chris¬ 
tianity  apart  from  the  personality  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  mythical 
theories  have  had  their  day.  And  it  is  recognized  on  all  hands 
that  mere  aspiration  can  no  more  create  a  religion  than  appetite 
can  create  food.  A  foundation  needs  a  founder. 


1  St.  Thom.  Aq.,  cont.  Gent.,  iv.  13. 


v.  The  Incarnation  and  Development.  167 

But  the  attack  thus  diverted  from  our  religion  glances  off  on  our 
theology.  The  Christian  religion,  it  is  granted,  was  founded  by 
Jesus  Christ;  but  its  theological  interpretation  is  viewed  as  a  mis¬ 
interpretation,  a  malign  legacy  from  the  dying  philosophies  of 
Greece.  This  objection  is  as  old  as  the  second  century,  and  lias 
been  revived  at  intervals  in  various  forms,  and  with  varying 
degrees  of  success.  Modern  historical  criticism  has  only  fortified 
it  with  fresh  instances.  But  it  has  no  force  whatever  if  we  believe 
that  the  Divine  Word  was  forever  working  in  the  world  in  co-op¬ 
eration  with  human  reason  ;  inspiring  the  higher  minds  among  the 
Jews  with  their  thirst  for  holiness,  and  so  making  ready  for  the 
coming  of  the  Holy  One  in  Jewish  flesh  :  but  inspiring  the  Greeks 
also  with  their  intellectual  eagerness,  and  preparing  them  to  recog¬ 
nize  Him  as  the  Eternal  Reason,  the  Word,  the  Truth  ;  and  to 
define  and  defend  and  demonstrate  that  Truth  to  the  outer  world. 
The  fact  that  Greek  philosophy  had  passed  its  zenith  and  was 
declining  did  not  make  its  influence  upon  Christianity  an  evil  one, 
a  corruption  of  the  living  by  the  dead.  It  was  only  dying  to  be 
incorporated  in  a  larger  life.  The  food  that  supports  our  existence 
owes  its  power  of  nutrition  to  the  fact  that  it  too  once  lived  with 
an  inferior  life  of  its  own.  And  so  the  Greek  philosophy  was 
capable  of  assimilation  by  the  Christian  organism,  from  the  fact 
that  it  too  had  once  been  vitally  inspired  by  the  life  that  is  the 
light  of  men.  And  the  true  successors  of  Plato  and  Aristotle  were 
the  men  of  progress  who  realized  this  fact ;  not  Celsus,  Lucian, 
Porphyry,  but  the  Fathers  of  the  Church. 

Clement  and  Origen,  Athanasius  and  Augustine,  the  Gregories 
and  Basil  understood  Greek  philosophy  as  clearly  as  St.  Paul  un¬ 
derstood  Judaism,  and  recognized  its  completion  as  plainly  in  the 
Incarnation  of  the  Word.  Nor  was  this  view  of  the  Incarnation  in 
the  one  case,  any  more  than  in  the  other,  assumed  for  a  merely 
apologetic  purpose.  These  men  were  essentially  philosophers, 
among  the  foremost  of  their  age.  They  knew  and  have  testified 
what  philosophy  had  done  for  their  souls,  and  what  it  could  not  do  ; 
how  far  it  had  led  them  forward  ;  and  of  what  longings  it  had  left 
them  full.  True,  philosophy  had  as  little  expected  Wisdom  to  be¬ 
come  incarnate,  and  that  amongst  the  barbarians,  the  outcast  and 
the  poor,  as  Judaism  had  expected  Messiah  to  suffer,  and  to  suffer 
at  the  hand  of  Jews.  But  no  sooner  was  the  Incarnation  accom¬ 
plished,  than  it  flooded  the  whole  past  of  Greece  no  less  than 
Judaea  with  a  new  light.  This  was  what  it  all  meant ;  this  was 
what  it  unwittingly  aimed  at ;  the  long  process  of  dialectic  and 
prophecy  were  here  united  in  their  goal. 


1 63  'The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

‘  Those  who  lived  under  the  guidance  of  the  Eternal  Reason 
(fieTa  A oyov  /Leo cravres)  as  Socrates,  Heraclitus,  and  such-like  men, 
are  Christians,’ run  the  well-known  words  of  Justin  Martyr,  ‘even 
though  they  were  reckoned  to  be  atheists  in  their  day  ’  (Ap.,  i.  46). 
Different  minds  have  always  differed,  and  will  continue  to  differ 
widely  as  to  the  degree  in  which  Greek  thought  contributed  to  the 
doctrines  of  the  Trinity  and  the  Incarnation.  It  is  a  difficult  and 
delicate  question  for  historical  criticism  to  decide.  But  the  essen¬ 
tial  thing  to  bear  in  mind  is  that  the  Christian  doctrine  of  the 
Logos  amply  covers  any  possible  view  which  criticism  may  estab¬ 
lish  upon  the  point.  For,  in  the  light  of  that  doctrine,  it  is  merely 
a  question  of  the  degree  in  which  the  Eternal  Word  chose  to  reveal 
Himself  through  one  agency  rather  than  another. 

Any  attack,  therefore,  upon  our  theology  for  its  connection  with 
Greek  thought,  is  powerless  to  disturb  us  ;  since  we  accept  the 
fact  but  give  it  another,  a  deeper  interpretation  :  while  we  rejoice 
in  every  fresh  proof  that  the  great  thoughts  of  the  Greek  mind 
were  guided  by  a  higher  power,  and  consecrated  to  a  nobler  end 
than  ever  their  authors  dreamed  of ;  and  that  the  true  classic  cul¬ 
ture  is  no  alien  element  but  a  legitimate  ingredient  in  Catholic, 
complete  Christianity. 

And  the  same  line  of  thought  gives  us  a  clew  to  the  history  of 
religious  development,  the  latest  field  to  which  the  philosophy  of 
evolution  has  been  extended.  For  though  a  superficial  comparison 
of  religions,  with  a  more  or  less  sceptical  result,  has  often  been 
attempted  before,  as  for  instance  in  the  thirteenth  century,  with  its 
well-known  story  of  the  three  impostors  ;  anything  like  a  scientific 
study  of  them  has  been  impossible  till  now.  For  now  for  the  first 
time  we  are  beginning  to  have  the  facts  before  us ;  the  facts  con¬ 
sisting  in  the  original  documents  of  the  various  historic  creeds,  and 
accumulated  observations  on  the  religious  ideas  of  uncivilized  races. 
In  both  these  fields  very  much  remains  to  be  done ;  but  still  there 
is  enough  done  already  to  justify  a  few  generalizations.  But  the 
subject  is  intensely  complex,  and  there  has  been  far  too  great  a 
tendency,  as  in  all  new  sciences,  to  rush  to  premature  conclusions. 
For  example,  there  is  the  shallow  scepticism  which  seizes  upon 
facts,  like  the  many  parallelisms  between  the  moral  precepts  of  ear¬ 
lier  religions  and  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  as  a  convincing  proof 
that  Christianity  contains  nothing  that  is  new.  No  serious  student 
of  comparative  religions  would  justify  such  an  inference  ;  but  it  is 
a  very  common  and  mischievous  fallacy  in  the  half-culture  of  the 
day.  Then  there  is  the  rash  orthodoxy,  that  is  over  eager  to 
accept  any  result  that  tallies  with  its  own  preconceived  opinions,  as, 


v.  The  Incarnation  and  Development.  169 

for  instance,  the  belief  in  a  primitive  monotheism.  No  doubt  sev¬ 
eral  very  competent  authorities  think  that  the  present  evidence 
points  in  that  direction.  But  a  majority  of  critics  equally  compe¬ 
tent  think  otherwise.  And  meanwhile,  there  is  a  mass  of  evidence 
still  waiting  collection  and  interpretation,  which  may  one  day  throw 
further  light  upon  the  point.  Under  such  circumstances,  therefore, 
it  is  as  impolitic  as  it  is  unscientific  to  identify  Christian  apology 
with  a  position  which  may  one  day  prove  untenable.  Attention 
has  already  been  called  to  a  similar  imprudence  in  connection  with 
Biogenesis,  and  the  history  of  past  apology  is  full  of  warnings 
against  such  conduct.  Then,  again,  there  is  the  converse  view 
which  is  often  as  glibly  stated  as  if  it  were  already  a  scientific 
truism,  —  the  view  that  religion  was  evolved  out  of  non-religious  ele¬ 
ments,  such  as  the  appearance  of  dead  ancestors  in  dreams.  This 
rests,  to  begin  with,  on  the  supposition  that  the  opinions  of  uncivil¬ 
ized  man,  as  we  now  find  him,  are  the  nearest  to  those  of  man  in 
his  primitive  condition  ;  which,  considering  that  degradation  is  a 
recognized  factor  in  history,  and  that  degradation  acts  more  power¬ 
fully  in  religion  than  in  any  other  region,  is  a  very  considerable 
assumption.  But  even  granting  this,  the  psychological  possibility 
of  the  process  in  question,  as  well  as  the  lapse  of  time  sufficient  for 
its  operation,  are  both  as  yet  unproved.  It  is  an  hypothetical  pro¬ 
cess,  happening  in  an  hypothetical  period  ;  but,  logically  considered, 
nothing  more. 

All  this  should  make  us  cautious  in  approaching  the  comparative 
study  of  religions.  Still,  even  in  its  present  stage,  it  has  reached 
some  general  results.  In  the  first  place,  the  universality  of  religion 
is  established  as  an  empirical  fact.  Man,  with  a  few  insignificant 
exceptions  which  may  fairly  be  put  down  to  degradation,  within 
the  limits  of  our  observation,  is  everywhere  religious.  The  notion 
that  religion  was  an  invention  of  interested  priestcraft  has  vanished, 
like  many  other  eighteenth  century  fictions,  before  nineteenth  cen¬ 
tury  science.  Even  in  the  savage  races,  where  priestcraft  is  most 
conspicuous,  the  priest  has  never  created  the  religion,  but  always 
the  religion  the  priest.  Beyond  this  fact  it  is  unsafe  to  dogmatize. 
There  is  abundant  evidence  of  early  nature-worship  in  very  various 
forms  ;  but  whether  this  was  the  degraded  offspring  of  purer  concep¬ 
tions,  or,  as  is  more  generally  supposed,  the  primitive  parent  from 
which  those  conceptions  sprang,  is  still  an  open  question.  The 
universality  of  the  fact  is  all  that  is  certain. 

Again,  there  is  a  progressive  tendency  observable  in  the  reli¬ 
gions  of  the  world  ;  but  the  progress  is  of  a  particular  kind,  and 
largely  counteracted  by  degeneracy.  Individuals  elevate,  masses 


170  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

degrade  religion.  There  is  no  progress  by  insensible  modifications  ; 
no  improvement  of  a  religion  in  committee.  Councils  like  those 
of  Asoka  or  Chosroes  can  only  sift  and  popularize  and  publish 
what  it  needed  a  Buddha  or  Zarathustra  to  create.  And  so  reli¬ 
gion  is  handed  on,  from  one  great  teacher  to  another,  never  rising 

above  the  level  of  its  founder  or  last  reformer,  till  another  founder 

*»•  ' 

or  reformer  comes ;  while  in  the  interval  it  is  materialized,  vulgar¬ 
ized,  degraded. 

And  from  the  nature  of  this  progress,  as  the  work  of  great  indi¬ 
viduals,  another  consequence  has  historically  followed ;  viz.,  that  all 
the  pre-Christian  religions  have  been  partial,  have  emphasized,  that 
is  to  say,  unduly  if  not  exclusively,  one  requirement  or  another  of 
the  religious  consciousness,  but  never  its  complex  whole.  For  the 
individual  teacher,  however  great,  cannot  proclaim  with  prophetic 
intensity  more  than  one  aspect  of  a  truth  :  and  his  followers  inva¬ 
riably  tend  to  isolate  and  exaggerate  this  aspect,  while  any  who 
attempt  to  supply  its  complement  are  regarded  with  suspicion. 
Hence  the  parties  and  sects  and  heresies  of  which  religious  history 
is  full.  The  simplest  illustration  of  this  is  the  fundamental  distinc¬ 
tion  between  Theism  and  Pantheism,  or  the  transcendence  and 
immanence  of  God  ;  the  one  often  said  to  be  a  Semitic,  the  other 
an  Aryan,  tendency  of  thought.  But  however  this  may  be,  both 
these  principles  must  be  represented  in  any  system  which  would 
really  satisfy  the  whole  of  our  religious  instincts  ;  while,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  they  were  separated  by  all  the  pre-Christian  religions,  and 
are  separated  by  Mahometanism  and  Buddhism,  the  only  two  reli¬ 
gious  systems  which  compete  with  Christianity  to-day. 

These,  then,  are  a  few  broad  results  of  our  comparative  survey 
of  religions.  That  religion,  however  humble  the  mode  of  its  first 
appearing,  is  yet  universal  to  man.  That  it  progresses  through  the 
agency  of  the  great  individual,  the  unique  personality,  the  spiritual 
genius ;  while  popular  influence  is  a  counter  agent  and  makes  for 
its  decay.  That  its  various  developments  have  all  been  partial,  and 
therefore  needed  completion,  if  the  cravings  of  the  human  spirit 
were  ever  to  be  set  at  rest. 

And  all  this  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  our  Christian  belief  in  a 
God  Who,  from  the  day  of  man’s  first  appearance  in  the  dim  twi¬ 
light  of  the  world,  left  not  Himself  without  witness  in  sun  and 
moon,  and  rain  and  storm-cloud,  and  the  courses  of  the  stars,  and 
the  promptings  of  conscience,  and  the  love  of  kin ;  and  Who  the 
while  was  lighting  every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world,  the  pri¬ 
meval  hunter,  the  shepherd  chieftain,  the  poets  of  the  Vedas  and 
the  Gathas,  the  Chaldaean  astronomer,  the  Egyptian  priest,  each, 


v.  The  Incarnation  and  Development.  171 

at  least  in  a  measure,  to  spell  that  witness  out  aright ;  ever  and  anon 
when  a  heart  was  ready  revealing  Himself  with  greater  clearness, 
to  one  or  another  chosen  spirit,  and  by  their  means  to  other  men ; 
till  at  length  in  the  fulness  of  time,  when  Jews  were  yearning  for 
one  in  whom  righteousness  should  triumph  visibly ;  and  Greeks 
sighing  over  the  divorce  between  truth  and  power,  and  wondering 
whether  the  wise  man  ever  would  indeed  be  king ;  and  artists  and 
ascetics  wandering  equally  astray,  in  vain  attempt  to  solve  the  prob¬ 
lem  of  the  spirit  and  the  flesh ;  ‘  the  Word  was  made  Flesh  and 
dwelt  among  us,  full  of  grace  and  truth.’  The  pre-Christian  reli¬ 
gions  were  the  age-long  prayer.  The  Incarnation  was  the  answer. 
Nor  are  we  tied  to  any  particular  view  of  the  prehistoric  stages  of 
this  development.  We  only  postulate  that  whenever  and  however 
man  became  truly  man,  he  was  from  that  moment  religious,  or 
capable  of  religion  ;  and  this  postulate  deals  with  the  region  that 
lies  beyond  the  reach  of  science,  though  all  scientific  observation 
is,  as  we  have  seen,  directly  in  its  favor. 

In  short,  the  history  of  the  pre-Christian  religions  is  like  that  of 
pre-Christian  philosophy,  a  long  preparation  for  the  Gospel.  We 
are  familiar  enough  with  this  thought  in  its  Jewish  application  from 
the  teaching  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  But  it  seems  to  be 
often  forgotten  that  the  principles  laid  down  in  that  Epistle  admit 
of  no  limitation  to  any  single  race  of  men.  They  are  naturally 
illustrated  from  Hebrew  history  in  a  writing  addressed  to  Hebrews. 
But  their  scope  is  universal.  They  compel  their  own  application 
to  every  religious  history,  which  the  growth  of  our  knowledge 
brings  to  light.  And  from  this  point  of  view  the  many  pagan 
adumbrations  of  Christian  doctrine,  similarities  of  practice,  coin¬ 
cidences  of  ritual,  analogies  of  phrase  and  symbol,  fall  naturally 
into  place.  The  Fathers  and  early  missionaries  were  often  per¬ 
plexed  by  these  phenomena,  and  did  not  scruple  to  attribute  them 
to  diabolic  imitation.  And  even  in  the  present  day  they  are  capa¬ 
ble  of  disturbing  timid  minds,  when  unexpectedly  presented  before 
them.  But  all  this  is  unphilosophical,  for  in  the  light  of  evolution 
the  occurrence  of  such  analogies  is  a  thing  to  be  expected ;  while 
to  the  eye  of  faith  they  do  but  emphasize  the  claim  of  Christianity 
to  be  universal,  by  showing  that  it  contains  in  spiritual  summary  the 
religious  thoughts  and  practices  and  ways  of  prayer  and  worship, 
not  of  one  people  only,  but  of  all  the  races  of  men. 

‘  In  the  whole  of  our  Christian  faith,’  says  Thomassin,  ‘  there  is 
nothing  which  does  not  in  the  highest  degree  harmonize  with  that 
natural  philosophy  which  Wisdom,  who  made  all  things,  infused 
into  every  created  mind,  and  wrote  upon  the  very  marrow  of  the 


172 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


reason ;  so  that,  however  obscured  by  the  foul  pleasures  of  the 
senses,  it  never  can  be  wholly  done  away.  It  was  this  hidden  and 
intimate  love  of  the  human  mind,  however  marred,  for  the  incor¬ 
ruptible  truth,  which  won  the  whole  world  over  to  the  gospel  of 
Christ,  when  once  that  Gospel  was  proclaimed.’ 1 

But  when  all  this  has  been  said,  there  is  a  lingering  suspicion  in 
many  minds,  that  even  if  the  details  of  the  doctrine  of  develop¬ 
ment  are  not  inconsistent  with  Christianity,  its  whole  drift  is  incom¬ 
patible  with  any  system  of  opinion  which  claims  to  possess  finality. 
And  if  Christianity  were  only  a  system  of  opinion,  the  objection 
might  be  plausible  enough.  But  its  claim  to  possess  finality  rests 
upon  its  further  claim  to  be  much  more  than  a  system  of  opinion. 
The  doctrine  of  development  or  evolution,  we  must  remember,  is 
not  a  doctrine  of  limitless  change,  like  the  old  Greek  notion  of 
perpetual  flux.  Species  once  developed  are  seen  to  be  persistent, 
in  proportion  to  their  versatility,  their  power,  i.  e.,  of  adapting 
themselves  to  the  changes  of  the  world  around  them.  And  because 
man,  through  his  mental  capacity,  possesses  this  power  to  an  almost 
unlimited  extent,  the  human  species  is  virtually  permanent.  Now 
in  scientific  language,  the  Incarnation  may  be  said  to  have  intro¬ 
duced  a  new  species  into  the  world, —  a  Divine  man  transcending 
past  humanity,  as  humanity  transcended  the  rest  of  the  animal 
creation,  and  communicating  His  vital  energy  by  a  spiritual  process 
to  subsequent  generations  of  men.  And  thus  viewed,  there  is 
nothing  unreasonable  in  the  claim  of  Christianity  to  be  at  least  as 
permanent  as  the  race  which  it  has  raised  to  a  higher  power,  and 
endued  with  a  novel  strength. 

III.  But  in  saying  this  we  touch  new  ground.  As  long  as  we 
confine  ourselves  to  speaking  of  the  Eternal  Word  as  operating  in 
the  mysterious  region  which  lies  behind  phenomena,  we  are  safe, 
it  may  be  said,  from  refutation,  because  we  are  dealing  with  the 
unknown.  But  when  we  go  on  to  assert  that  He  has  flashed 
through  our  atmosphere,  and  been  seen  of  men,  scintillating  signs 
and  wonders  in  His  path,  we  are  at  once  open  to  critical  attack. 
And  this  brings  us  to  the  real  point  at  issue  between  Christianity 
and  its  modern  opponents.  It  is  not  the  substantive  body  of  our 
knowledge,  but  the  critical  faculty  which  has  been  sharpened  in  its 
acquisition  that  really  comes  in  conflict  with  our  creed.  Assuming 
Christianity  to  be  true,  there  is,  as  we  have  seen,  nothing  in  it 
inconsistent  with  any  ascertained  scientific  fact.  But  what  is  called 
the  negative  criticism  assumes  that  it  cannot  be  true,  because  the 


1  Thomassin,  Incarn.,  i.  15. 


v.  The  Incarnation  and  Development .  173 

miraculous  element  in  it  contradicts  experience.  Still  criticism  is 
a  very  different  thing  from  science,  a  subjective  thing  into  which 
imagination  and  personal  idiosyncrasy  enter  largely,  and  which 
needs  therefore  in  its  turn  to  be  rigorously  criticised.  And  the 
statement  that  Christianity  contradicts  experience  suggests  two 
reflections,  in  limine. 

In  the  first  place,  the  origin  of  all  things  is  mysterious,  the  ori¬ 
gin  of  matter,  the  origin  of  energy,  the  origin  of  life,  the  origin  of 
thought.  And  present  experience  is  no  criterion  of  any  of  these 
things.  What  were  their  birth-throes,  what  were  their  accompany¬ 
ing  signs  and  wonders,  when  the  morning  stars  sang  together  in  the 
dawn  of  their  appearing,  we  do  not  and  cannot  know.  If,  there¬ 
fore,  the  Incarnation  was,  as  Christians  believe,  another  instance  of 
a  new  beginning,  present  experience  will  neither  enable  us  to  assert 
or  deny,  what  its  attendant  circumstances  may  or  may  not  have 
been.  The  logical  impossibility  of  proving  a  negative  is  proverbial. 
And  on  a  subject  whose  conditions  are  unknown  to  us,  the  very 
attempt  becomes  ridiculous.  And  secondly,  it  is  a  mistake  to  sup¬ 
pose  that  as  a  matter  of  strict  evidence,  the  Christian  Church  has 
ever  rested  its  claims  upon  its  miracles.  A  confirmatory  factor, 
indeed,  in  a  complication  of  converging  arguments,  they  have  been, 
and  still  are  to  many  minds.  But  to  others,  who  in  the  present 
day  are  probably  the  larger  class,  it  is  not  so  easy  to  believe 
Christianity  on  account  of  miracles,  as  miracles  on  account  of  Chris¬ 
tianity.  For  now7,  as  ever,  the  real  burden  of  the  proof  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  is  to  be  sought  in  our  present  experience. 

There  is  a  fact  of  experience  as  old  as  history,  as  widely  spread 
as  is  the  human  race,  and  more  intensely,  irresistibly,  importun¬ 
ately  real  than  all  the  gathered  experience  of  art  and  policy  and 
science,  —  the  fact  which  philosophers  call  moral  evil,  and  Chris¬ 
tians  sin.  It  rests  upon  no  questionable  interpretation  of  an  East¬ 
ern  allegory.  We  breathe  it,  we  feel  it,  we  commit  it,  we  see  its 
havoc  all  around  us.  It  is  no  dogma,  but  a  sad,  solemn,  inevitable 
fact.  The  animal  creation  has  a  law  of  its  being,  a  condition  of  its 
perfection,  which  it  instinctively  and  invariably  pursues.  Man  has 
a  law  of  his  being,  a  condition  of  his  perfection,  which  he  instinct¬ 
ively  tends  to  disobey.  And  what  he  does  to-day,  he  has  been 
doing  from  the  first  record  of  his  existence. 

Video  meliora  proboque, 

Deteriora  sequor. 

Philosophers  have  from  time  to  time  attempted  to  explain  this 
dark  experience  away,  and  here  and  there  men  of  happy  tempera- 


174 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


ment,  living  among  calm  surroundings,  have  been  comparatively 
unconscious  of  the  evil  in  the  world.  But  the  common  conscience 
is  alike  unaffected  by  the  ingenuity  of  the  one  class,  or  the  apathy 
of  tne  other  ;  while  it  thrills  to  the  voices  of  men  like  St.  Paul  or 
St.  Augustine,  Dante  or  John  Bunyan,  Loyola  or  Luther;  recog¬ 
nizing  in  their  sighs  and  tears  and  lamentations,  the  echo  of  its  own 
unutterable  sorrow  made  articulate.  Nor  is  sin  confined  to  one 
department  of  our  being.  It  poisons  the  very  springs  of  life,  and 
taints  its  every  action.  It  corrupts  art ;  it  hampers  science  ;  it 
paralyzes  the  efforts  of  the  politician  and  the  patriot ;  and  diseased 
bodies,  and  broken  hearts,  and  mental  and  spiritual  agony,  are 
amongst  its  daily,  its  hourly  results.  It  would  seem  indeed  super¬ 
fluous  to  insist  upon  these  things,  if  their  importance  were  not  so 
often  ignored  in  the  course  of  anti-Christian  argument.  But  when 
we  are  met  by  an  appeal  to  experience,  it  is  necessary  to  insist  that 
no  element  of  experience  be  left  out. 

And  moral  evil,  independently  of  any  theory  of  its  nature  or  its 
origin,  is  a  plain  palpable  fact,  and  a  fact  of  such  stupendous  mag¬ 
nitude  as  to  constitute  by  far  the  most  serious  problem  of  our  life. 

Now  it  is  also  a  fact  of  present  experience  that  there  are  scat¬ 
tered  throughout  Christendom,  men  of  every  age,  temperament, 
character,  and  antecedents,  for  whom  this  problem  is  practically 
solved  ;  men  who  have  a  personal  conviction  that  their  own  past  sins 
are  done  away  with,  and  the  whole  grasp  of  evil  upon  them  loos¬ 
ened,  and  who  in  consequence  rise  to  heights  of  character  and  con¬ 
duct,  which  they  know  that  they  would  never  have  otherwise  attained. 
And  all  this  they  agree  to  attribute,  in  however  varying  phrases, 
to  the  personal  influence  upon  them  of  Jesus  Christ.  Further, 
these  men  had  a  spiritual  ancestry.  Others  in  the  last  generation 
believed  and  felt  and  acted  as  they  now  act  and  feel  and  believe. 
And  so  their  lineage  can  be  traced  backward,  age  by  age,  swelling 
into  a  great  multitude  whom  no  man  can  number,  till  we  come  to 
the  historic  records  of  Him  Whom  they  all  look  back  to,  and  find 
that  He  claimed  the  power  on  earth  to  forgive  sins.  And  there  the 
phenomenon  ceases.  Pre-Christian  antiquity  contains  nothing  anal¬ 
ogous  to  it.  Consciousness  of  sin,  and  prayers  for  pardon,  and 
purgatorial  penances,  and  sacrifices,  and  incantations,  and  magic 
formulae  are  there  in  abundance ;  and  hopes,  among  certain  races, 
of  the  coming  of  a  great  deliverer.  But  never  the  same  sense  of 
sin  forgiven,  nor  the  consequent  rebound  of  the  enfranchised 
soul.  Yet  neither  a  code  of  morality  which  was  not  essentially 
new,  nor  the  example  of  a  life  receding  with  every  age  into  a  dim¬ 
mer  past,  would  have  been  adequate  to  produce  this  result.  It  has 


v.  The  Incarnation  and  Development.  175 

all  the  appearance  of  being,  what  it  historically  has  claimed  to  be, 
the  entrance  of  an  essentially  new  life  into  the  world,  quickening 
its  palsied  energies,  as  with  an  electric  touch.  And  the  more  we 
realize  in  the  bitterness  of  our  own  experience,  or  that  of  others, 
the  essential  malignity  of  moral  evil,  the  more  strictly  supernatural 
does  this  energy  appear.  When,  therefore,  we  are  told  that  mira¬ 
cles  contradict  experience,  we  point  to  the  daily  occurrence  of  this 
spiritual  miracle  and  ask  ‘  whether  is  it  easier  to  say,  Thy  sins  be 
forgiven  thee,  or  to  say,  Arise  and  walk?’  We  meet  experience 
with  experience,  the  negative  experience  that  miracles  have  not 
happened  with  the  positive  experience  that  they  are  happening 
now  :  an  old  argument,  which  so  far  from  weakening,  modern  sci¬ 
ence  has  immensely  strengthened,  by  its  insistence  on  the  intimate 
union  between  material  and  spiritual  things.  For  spirit  and  matter, 
as  we  call  them,  are  now  knowm  to  intermingle  and  blend,  and 
fringe  off,  and  fade  into  each  other,  in  a  w-ay  that  daily  justifies  us 
more  in  our  belief  that  the  possessor  of  the  key  to  one  must  be  the 
possessor  of  the  key  to  both,  and  that  lie  Who  can  save  the  soul 
can  raise  the  dead. 

Here,  then,  is  our  answer  to  the  negative  criticism,  or  rather  to 
the  negative  hypothesis,  by  which  many  critics  are  misled.  Of 
course  we  do  not  expect  for  it  unanimous  assent.  It  is  founded 
on  a  specific  experience  ;  and  strangers  to  that  experience  are 
naturally  unable  to  appreciate  its  force.  But  neither  should  they 
claim  to  judge  it.  For  the  critic  of  an  experience  must  be  its 
expert.  And  the  accumulated  verdict  of  the  spiritual  experts  of 
all  ages  should  at  least  meet  with  grave  respect  from  the  very  men 
who  are  most  familiar  with  the  importance  of  the  maxim,  ‘  Cuique 
in  sua  arte  credendum.’  Christianity  distinctly  declines  to  be 
proved  first  and  practised  afterwards.  Its  practice  and  its  proof 
go  hand  in  hand.  And  its  real  evidence  is  its  power. 

We  now7  see  why  the  Atonement  has  often  assumed  such  exclu¬ 
sive  prominence  in  the  minds  of  Christian  men.  They  have  felt 
that  it  was  the  secret  of  their  own  regenerate  life,  their  best  intel¬ 
lectual  apology,  their  most  attractive  missionary  appeal  ;  and  so 
have  come  to  think  that  the  other  aspects  of  the  Incarnation  might 
be  banished  from  the  pulpit  and  the  market-place,  to  the  seclusion 
of  the  schools.  But  this  has  proved  to  be  a  fatal  mistake.  Truth 
cannot  be  mutilated  with  impunity.  And  this  gradual  substitution 
of  a  detached  doctrine  for  a  catholic  creed  has  led  directly  to  the 
charge  which  is  now  so  common,  that  Christianity  is  inadequate  to 
life ;  with  no  message  to  ordinary  men,  in  their  ordinary  moments, 


l  j6  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

no  bearing  upon  the  aims,  occupations,  interests,  enthusiasms, 
amusements,  which  are  human  nature’s  daily  food. 

But  we  have  already  seen  what  a  misconception  this  implies  of 
the  Incarnation.  The  Incarnation  opened  heaven,  for  it  was  the 
revelation  of  the  Word ;  but  it  also  re-consecrated  earth,  for  the 
Word  was  made  Flesh  and  dwelt  among  us.  And  it  is  impossible 
to  read  history  without  feeling  how  profoundly  the  religion  of  the 
Incarnation  has  been  a  religion  of  humanity.  The  human  body 
itself,  which  heathendom  had  so  degraded  that  noble  minds  could 
only  view  it  as  the  enemy  and  prison  of  the  soul,  acquired  a  new 
meaning,  exhibited  new  graces,  shone  with  a  new  lustre  in  the 
light  of  the  Word  made  Flesh  ;  and  thence,  in  widening  circles, 
the  family,  society,  the  state,  felt  in  their  turn  the  impulse  of  the 
Christian  spirit,  with  its 

Touches  of  things  common, 

Till  they  rose  to  touch  the  spheres. 

Literature  revived  ;  art  flamed  into  fuller  life ;  even  science  in 
its  early  days  owed  more  than  men  often  think  to  the  Christian 
temper  and  the  Christian  reverence  for  things  once  called  com¬ 
mon  or  unclean,  while  the  optimism,  the  belief  in  the  future,  the 
atmosphere  of  hopefulness,  which  has  made  our  progress  and 
achievements  possible,  and  which,  when  all  counter-currents  have 
been  allowed  for,  so  deeply  differentiates  the  modern  from  the 
ancient  world,  dates,  as  a  fact  of  history,  from  those  buoyant  days 
of  the  early  Church,  when  the  creed  of  suicide  was  vanquished 
before  the  creed  of  martyrdom,  Seneca  before  St.  Paul.  It  is  true 
that  secular  civilization  has  co  operated  with  Christianity  to  pro¬ 
duce  the  modern  world.  But  secular  civilization  is,  as  we  have 
seen,  in  the  Christian  view,  nothing  less  than  the  providential  cor¬ 
relative  and  counterpart  of  the  Incarnation.  For  the  Word  did 
not  desert  the  rest  of  His  creation  to  become  Incarnate.  Natural 
religion  and  natural  morality  and  the  natural  play  of  intellect  have 
their  function  in  the  Christian  as  they  had  in  the  pre-Christian 
ages  ;  and  are  still  kindled  by  the  light  that  lighteth  every  man 
coming  into  the  world.  And  hence  it  is  that  secular  thought  has  so 
often  corrected  and  counteracted  the  evil  of  a  Christianity  grown 
professional  and  false  and  foul. 

Still,  when  all  allowance  for  other  influence  has  been  made,  and 
all  the  ill  done  in  its  name  admitted  to  the  full,  Christianity  re¬ 
mains,  —  the  only  power  which  has  regenerated  personal  life,  and 
that  beyond  the  circle  even  of  its  professed  adherents,  the  light  of 


v.  The  Incarnation  and  Development.  177 

it  far  outshining  the  lamp  which  has  held  its  flame.  And  personal 
life  is  after  all  the  battle-ground  on  which  the  progress  of  the 
race  must  be  decided.  Nor  ever,  indeed,  should  this  be  more 
apparent  than  in  the  present  day.  For  materialism,  that  old 
enemy  alike  of  the  Christian  and  the  human  cause,  has  passed 
from  the  study  to  the  street.  No  one,  indeed,  may  regret  this 
mere  than  the  high-souled  scientific  thinker,  whose  life  belies  the 
inevitable  consequences  of  his  creed.  But  the  ruthless  logic  of 
human  passion  is  drawing  those  consequences  fiercely ;  and  the 
luxury  of  the  rich,  and  the  communistic  cry  of  the  poor,  and 
the  desecration  of  marriage,  and  the  disintegration  of  society,  and 
selfishness  in  policy,  and  earthliness  in  art,  are  plausibly  pleading 
science  in  their  favor.  And  with  all  this  Christianity  claims,  as  of 
old,  to  cope,  because  it  is  the  religion  of  the  Incarnation.  For 
the  real  strength  of  materialism  lies  in  the  justice  which  it  does  to 
the  material  side  of  nature,  —  the  loveliness  of  earth  and  sea  and 
sky  and  sun  and  star ;  the  wonder  of  the  mechanism  which  con¬ 
trols  alike  the  rushing  comet  and  the  falling  leaf ;  the  human  body 
crowning  both,  at  once  earth’s  fairest  flower  and  most  marvellous 
machine.  And  Christianity  is  the  only  religion  which  does  equal 
justice  to  this  truth,  while  precluding  its  illegitimate  perversion. 
It  includes  the  truth,  by  the  essential  importance  which  it  assigns 
to  the  human  body,  and  therefore  to  the  whole  material  order, 
with  which  that  body  is  so  intimately  one  ;  while  it  excludes  its 
perversion,  by  showing  the  cause  of  that  importance  to  lie  in  its 
connection,  communion,  union  with  the  spirit,  and  consequent 
capacity  for  endless  degrees  of  glory. 

And  though  its  own  first  vocation  is  to  seek  and  save  souls  one 
by  one,  it  consecrates  in  passing  every  field  of  thought  and  action 
wherein  the  quickened  energies  of  souls  may  find  their  scope. 
It  welcomes  the  discoveries  of  science,  as  ultimately  due  to  Divine 
revelation  and  part  of  the  providential  education  of  the  world.  It 
recalls  to  art  the  days  when,  in  catacomb  and  cloister,  she  learned 
her  noblest  mission  to  be  the  service  of  the  Word  made  Flesh.  It 
appeals  to  democracy  as  the  religion  of  the  fishermen  who  gathered 
round  the  carpenter’s  Son.  It  points  the  social  reformer  to  the 
pattern  of  a  perfect  Man,  laying  down  His  life  alike  for  enemy  and 
friend.  While  it  crowns  all  earthly  aims  with  a  hope  full  of  immor¬ 
tality,  as  prophetic  of  eternal  occupations  otherwhere.  And  how¬ 
ever  many  a  new  meaning  may  yet  be  found  in  the  Incarnation, 
however  many  a  misconception  of  it  fade  before  fuller  light,  we 
can  conceive  no  phase  of  progress  which  has  not  the  Incarnation 

12 


1 78  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

for  its  guiding-star,  no  age  which  cannot  make  the  prayer  of  the 
fifth  century  its  own  :  — 

‘  O  God  of  unchangeable  power  and  eternal  light,  look  favorably 
on  Thy  whole  Church,  that  wonderful  and  sacred  mystery ;  and 
by  the  tranquil  operation  of  Thy  perpetual  Providence,  carry  out 
the  work  of  man’s  salvation  ;  and  let  the  whole  world  feel  and  see 
that  things  which  were  cast  down  are  being  raised  up,  and  things 
which  had  grown  old  are  being  made  new,  and  all  things  are 
returning  to  perfection  through  Him,  from  whom  they  took  their 
origin,  even  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.’  1 


1  Gelasian,  quoted  by  Bright,  Ancient  Collects,  p.  98. 


VI. 


THE  INCARNATION  AS  THE  BASIS 

OF  DOGMA. 


R.  C.  MOBERLY. 


VI. 


THE  INCARNATION  AS  THE  BASIS  OF 

DOGMA . 


I.  Many  years  ago,  in  undergraduate  days,  I  was  speaking  once 
to  a  friend  of  my  hope  of  beginning  some  little  acquaintance  with 
Theology.  I  well  remember  the  air  of  nicely  mingled  civility  and 
contemptuousness,  with  which  my  friend,  wishing  to  sympathize, 
at  once  drew  a  distinction  for  me  between  speculative  and  dog¬ 
matic  Theology,  and  assumed  that  I  could  not  mean  that  the  mere 
study  of  dogmatic  Theology  could  have  any  sort  of  attractiveness. 
I  do  not  think  that  I  accepted  his  kindly  overture  ;  but -it  certainly 
made  me  consider  more  than  once  afterwards,  whether  the  ‘  mere 
study  of  dogmatic  Theology  ’  could  after  all  be  so  slavish  and 
profitless  an  employment  as  had  been  implied.  On  the  whole, 
however,  I  settled  with  myself  that  his  condemnation,  however 
obviously  candid  and  even  impressive,  must  nevertheless  remain, 
so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  a  surprise  and  an  enigma.  For  what, 
after  all,  did  the  study  of  dogmatic  Theology  mean,  but  the  study 
of  those  truths  which  the  mind  of  Christ’s  Church  upon  earth  has 
believed  to  be  at  once  the  most  certain  and  the  most  import¬ 
ant  truths  of  man’s  history,  nature  and  destiny,  in  this  world  and 
forever  ? 

It  is  impossible,  however,  not  to  feel  that  my  friend,  in  his 
objection,  represented  what  was,  and  is,  a  very  widespread  instinct 
against  the  study  of  dogma.  Some  think,  for  instance,  that  to 
practical  men  exactnesses  of  doctrinal  statement,  even  if  true,  are 
immaterial.  Others  think  that  any  exactness  of  doctrinal  state¬ 
ment  is  convicted,  by  its  mere  exactness,  of  untruth ;  for  that 
knowledge  about  things  unseen  can  only  be  indefinite  in  character. 
If,  indeed,  religious  knowledge  is  a  process  of  evolution  simply, 
if  it  means  only  a  gradual  development  towards  ever-increasing 
definiteness  of  religious  supposition,  then  no  doubt  its  exactness 
may  be  the  condemnation  of  dogma.  But  then,  no  doubt,  to 


182 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


make  room  for  such  a  view,  the  whole  fact  of  historical  Christianity 
must  be  first  displaced. 

Is  it  put  as  an  impossibility,  that  there  cannot  be  any  definite  or 
certain  Theology?  Can  there,  then,  be  a  Revelation?  Can  there 
be  an  Incarnation?  Those  only  are  consistent,  who  assert  that  all 
three  are  impossible,  and  who  understand  that  in  so  doing  they  are 
limiting  the  possibilities,  and  therefore  pro  tanto  questioning  the 
reality  of  a  Personal  God.  But  if  there  be  a  Personal  God,  what 
are  the  adequate  grounds  on  which  it  is  nevertheless  laid  down 
that  He  cannot  directly  reveal  Himself?  Or  if  He  can  reveal 
Himself,  on  what  ground  can  the  a  priori  assertion  rest,  that  theo¬ 
logical  truth  must  be  uncertain  or  indefinite?  The  Christian  Church 
claims  to  have  both  definite  and  certain  knowledge.  These  claims 
can  never  be  met  by  any  a  priori  judgment  that  such  knowledge  is 
impossible.  Such  a  judgment  is  too  slenderly  based  to  bear  the 
weight  of  argument.  To  argue  from  it  would  be  to  commit  the  very 
fault  so  often  imputed  to  the  dogmatist.  It  would  be  a  flagrant 
instance  of  dogmatic  assertion  (and  that  for  the  most  important  of 
argumentative  purposes)  of  what  we  could  not  possibly  know. 

The  claim  of  the  Church  to  knowledge  through  the  Incarnation 
can  only  be  rationally  met,  and  only  really  answered,  when  the 
claim  itself,  and  its  evidence,  are  seriously  examined.  Herein  lies, 
and  will  always  lie,  the  heart  of  the  struggle  for  or  against  the  dog¬ 
matic  character  of  the  Church.  Anything  else  is  only  the  fringe 
of  the  matter.  Any  rebutting  of  a  priori  presumptions  against 
dogma  is  a  mere  clearing  of  the  way  for  battle.  Thus  it  is  said, 
perhaps,  that  the  objection  is  to  the  degree  of  definiteness,  or  to 
the  tone  of  authority.  It  is  fancied  that  dogma  in  its  very  nature, 
quite  apart  from  its  contents,  is  a  curtailment  of  the  rights,  and  a 
limitation  of  the  powers,  of  mind.  Is  dogma,  the  most  definite 
and  authoritative,  fettering  to  the  freedom  of  intellect?  We  can 
see  in  a  moment  the  entire  unreality  of  the  objection,  by  simply 
substituting  for  it  another  question.  Is  truth  fettering  to  intellect? 
Does  the  utmost  certitude  of  truth  limit  freedom  of  mind  ?  Because, 
if  not,  dogma,  so  far  as  it  coincides  with  truth,  cannot  fetter  either. 
If  perfect  knowledge  of  truth  could  paralyze  the  intellect,  what  (it 
is  worth  while  to  ask)  do  we  mean  by  intellect?  Do  we  mean 
something  which  must  forever  be  struggling  with  difficulties  which 
it  cannot  overcome  ?  Is  it  necessary  for  the  idea  of  mind  that  it 
should  be  baffled  ?  Is  it  a  creature  only  of  the  tangle  and  the  fog  ? 
And  if  ever  the  day  should  come,  when  after  struggling,  more  or 
less  ineffectually,  with  the  tangle  and  the  fog,  man  should  emerge 
at  last  in  clear  sunshine  upon  the  mountain  top,  will  mind  cease 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma >  183 

to  have  any  faculty  or  place,  because  the  knowledge  of  truth  has 
come?  At  least,  if  we  understand  this  to  be  the  conception  of 
mind,  it  need  not  frighten  us  quite  so  much  as  it  did,  to  be  told 
that  dogma  interferes  with  mind.  But  if,  however  different  from 
our  experience,  the  employment  of  mind  would  be  in  the  presence 
of  perfect  knowledge,  we  cannot  so  conceive  of  mind  as  to  admit 
that  truth  could  possibly  be  its  enemy  or  its  destruction,  then  we 
may  certainly  insist  that  no  amount  of  dogma,  so  far  as  it  is  true, 
can  limit  or  fetter  the  freedom  of  intellect.  But  then  we  are  at 
once  thrown  back  upon  the  question :  Is  the  dogmatic  teaching  of 
the  Church  true?  No  statement  which  absolutely  coincides  with 
truth  can  hurt  the  freedom  of  mind.  But  mistaken  presumption 
of  truth  can,  and  does,  limit  it ;  and  so  does  authority,  if  it 
prevents  the  examination  of  truth.  Dogma,  then,  is,  as  dogma,  a 
wrong  to  mind,  just  so  far  as  it  can  be  convicted  of  either  of  these 
things ;  so  far  as  it  forbids  examination,  or  so  far  as  it  asserts  what 
is  not  strictly  true. 

As  to  the  first  of  these  two  suggestions  against  dogma,  it  is  quite 
enough  simply  to  deny  it.  The  Church,  as  a  teacher  of  dogmatic 
truth,  does  not  forbid  the  freest  and  completest  inquiry  into  the 
truths  which  she  enunciates.  The  question  is  not  whether  dog¬ 
matic  theologians  have  ever  dreaded  inquiry  into  truth  ;  but 
whether  the  dogmatic  Church,  as  such,  precludes  or  forbids  it. 
True,  she  enunciates  some  truths  as  true  ;  and  holds  those,  in 
different  measures,  unwise  and  wrong,  who  contradict  her  truths. 
But  she  dees  not,  therefore,  forbid  the  fullest  exercise  of  intellect 
upon  them  ;  nor  tremble  lest  intellect,  rightly  wielded,  should  con¬ 
tradict  them.  Indeed  for  eighteen  centuries  she  has  been  engaged, 
and  will  be  engaged  to  the  end,  in  examining  with  a  power  and 
discipline  of  intellect,  which  she  alone  ever  has,  or  could  have, 
evoked,  into  the  meaning  and  exactness  of  her  own  knowledge. 
But  she  does  warn  inquirers  that  successful  inquiry  into  her  truths 
is  no  work  of  merely  ingenious  disputation,  but  needs  the  exactest 
discipline  and  balance  of  all  the  faculties  of  our  human  nature. 

We  return,  then,  to  the  second  suggestion  ;  and  I  repeat  that 
the  question  has  for  us  become,  not  whether  dogma  in  the  abstract 
is  desirable  or  undesirable,  but  whether  the  dogmas  of  the  Chris¬ 
tian  Church  are  true  or  not  true.  Dogma  that  is  true  can  only  be 
undesirable  in  so  far  as  truth  is  undesirable. 

Whether  the  dogmas  of  the  Church  are  true  or  not  true,  is  itself 
a  question  of  evidence. 

Before,  however,  making  any  remark  upon  the  nature  of  this 
evidence  in  the  case  of  religion,  we  may  remember  that  the  pos- 


184  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

session  of  dogma  is  in  no  way  peculiar  to  religion.  There  is  no 
region  of  research  or  knowledge  which  does  not  present  to  the 
student  its  own  4  dogmata,’  or  truths  ascertained  and  agreed  upon ; 
nor  does  any  one,  in  the  name  of  freedom  of  intellect,  persist  in 
treating  these  always  as  open  questions. 

But  perhaps  if  we  venture  thus  to  claim  the  ascertained  truths 
of  any  science  as  dogmas,  the  scientific  answer  will  be  ready. 
They  differ,  it  will  be  felt,  from  the  nature  of  religious  dogmas,  in 
two  important  respects.  The  first  difference  is,  that  they  are 
offered  for  acceptance  with  their  full  proofs,  from  the  first  moment 
that  they  are  offered  at  all.  The  student  could  not,  it  may  be, 
have  discovered  for  himself  the  law  of  gravitation,  or  the  circula¬ 
tion  of  the  blood  ;  but  he  can,  when  these  discoveries  are  once 
set  before  him  by  another,  see  forthwith  not  only  the  coherency  of 
the  principles,  but  the  cogency  of  their  proof.  The  second  differ¬ 
ence  is,  that  when  they  have  been  accepted  by  the  student,  proof 
and  all,  they  still  claim  no  allegiance  beyond  what  his  intelligence 
cannot  but  freely  give ;  he  is  still  free  to  supersede  or  upset  them, 
if  he  can.  He  accepts  them  indeed  provisionally,  as  identical 
with  the  truth  so  far  as  the  truth  on  the  subject  is  yet  known ;  yet 
not  necessarily  as  final  truth.  He  accepts  them  as  truths  which  all 
his  further  study  will  comment  upon ;  presumably  indeed  in  the 
way  of  continual  illustration  and  corroboration,  —  so  that  what  he 
accepts  for  study  will  be  more  and  more  certainly  proved  by  the 
study,  —  but  also,  if  you  please,  in  the  wTay  of  correction ;  for  if 
his  study  can  supersede,  or  even  in  any  measure  correct  or  alter 
them,  why  so  much  the  better  both  for  science  and  for  him  !  Why 
should  not  this  be  equally  true  of  Theology?  Why  should  religious 
dogmas  be  received  without  these  conditions,  as  certainly  and 
finally  true  ? 

To  begin  with,  then,  some  exception  may  be  taken  to  the  state¬ 
ment  that  the  student  who  accepts  a  scientific  doctrine,  has  the  full 
evidence  before  him  from  the  beginning.  That  it  is  not  altogether 
so  is  evident  from  the  simple  consideration,  just  mentioned,  that 
his  work  is  a  progressive  one  ;  and  that  the  whole  course  of  his 
experience  tends,  and  will  tend,  to  deepen  the  certainty  of  his  first 
principles.  But  in  so  far  as  the  proof  of  any  leading  principle  is 
being  deepened  and  strengthened  by  the  student’s  daily  work,  so 
far  it  is  clear  that  the  amount  of  certainty  about  his  principles  with 
which  at  first  he  began,  must  be  less  than  that  with  which  he  ends 
at  last ;  and  therefore  that  the  proof  presented  to  him  at  the  begin¬ 
ning,  however  much  it  may  have  been  adequate  to  the  purpose 
(even  though  it  may  have  been  the  completest  proof  capable  of 


VI.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma .  185 


being  presented  in  the  way  of  exposition  from  the  lip  to  the  ear), 
was  nevertheless  most  incomplete  in  comparison  with  the  fulness 
of  attainable  proof.  And  further,  it  may  certainly  be  said  also, 
that  in  the  convincingness  of  this  evidence  as  at  first  presented, 
authority,  whether  more  or  less,  had  an  undoubted  part.  At  the 
very  least  it  had  a  negative  place,  as  a  guarantee  to  the  young  mind 
rejoicing  in  the  ingenuity  of  the  apparent  demonstration,  that  the 
apparent  demonstration  was  not  vitiated  by  some  unseen  fallacy, 
or  that  there  was  not  a  series  of  other  considerations  behind,  which 
would  rob  the  lesson  just  learnt  of  its  practical  usefulness.  Often, 
indeed,  the  degree  of  authority  in  the  first  scientific  convictions 
would  be  very  much  higher.  Often,  however  helpful  the  arguments 
or  illustrations  of  a  principle  may  seem,  the  really  overruling  con¬ 
sideration  will  at  first  be  this,  that  the  whole  scientific  world  has 
absolutely  accepted  the  principle  as  truth.  So  much  is  this  the 
case,  that  if  an  average  student  should  find  himself  unable  in  any 
point  to  receive  the  ascertained  truths  of  his  science  with  intelligent 
agreement,  he  would  not  hesitate  to  assume  that  the  whole  fault 
lay  with  himself ;  he  would  really  be  convinced  in  his  soul  that  the 
dicta  of  his  scientific  teachers  were  right,  and  that  he  himself  would 
see  the  certainty  of  them  by  and  by. 

Now  in  both  these  two  respects  the  acceptance  of  religious 
dogma  is  not  essentially  in  contrast,  but  rather  is  parallel,  with 
that  of  scientific  principles.  For  religious  truth  is  neither  in  its 
first  acceptance  a  mere  matter  of  blind  submission  to  authority,  nor 
is  it  stagnant  and  unprogressive  after  it  is  accepted.  However 
different  in  other  ways  the  leading  truths  of  the  Creed  may  be  from 
scientific  principles  ;  in  this  respect  at  least  they  are  not  different, 
—  that  not  one  of  them  is  ever  brought  for  the  acceptance  of  men 
without  some  really  intelligent  evidence  and  ground  for  acceptance. 
If  any  man  is  asked  to  accept  them,  without  any  intelligent  ground 
for  the  acceptance,  we  may  be  bold  perhaps  to  assert  that  it  would 
be  his  duty  to  refuse.  Of  course,  however,  authority  will  itself  be 
a  large  part  of  his  intelligent  ground  ;  a  larger  part  or  a  smaller 
according  to  circumstances.  But  then  there  is  no  proper  antithesis 
between  believing  in  deference  to  authority,  and  believing  in  defer¬ 
ence  to  reason,  unless  it  is  understood  that  the  authority  believed 
in  was  accepted  at  first  as  authority  without  reason ,  or  maintained 
in  spite  of  the  subsequent  refusal  of  reason  to  give  confirmatory 
witness  to  its  assertions.  Even  in  the  cases  in  which  there  seems 
to  be  least  use  of  reason,  the  case  of  a  young  child  learning  at  his 
mother’s  knee,  or  of  a  man  whose  spirit  has  suffered  and  been 
broken,  and  who  gives  himself  up  at  last  to  the  mere  guidance  of  a 


1 86  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

friend  or  a  teacher,  the  authority,  when  accepted  at  all,  is  accepted 
on  grounds  essentially  reasonable.  The  child’s  reasoning  may 
differ  in  quality  from  the  prodigal’s ;  but  the  child  trusts  father  or 
mother  on  grounds  which  are  wholly,  if  unconsciously,  a  product 
of  the  strictest  reason  ;  and  the  prodigal  has  felt  in  his  inmost  soul 
alike  the  deadness  of  his  own  spiritual  being,  and  the  power  and 
the  beauty  which  are  in  the  life  of  the  teacher  upon  whom  he  throws 
himself.  And  this  is  not  the  only  point ;  for  the  reasonable  mind  in  • 
one  is  not  a  thing  different  in  nature  from  the  reasonable  mind 
in  another,  or  from  the  eternal  reason  which  is  in  God.  The 
truths,  therefore,  which  we  are  taught  about  God,  and  man,  and 
Christ,  about  sin,  and  redemption  from  sin,  and  the  heaven  of 
holiness,  and  which  seem  to  be  accepted  as  a  mere  act  of  not 
unreasonable  dutifulness,  do  reasonably  withal  commend  them¬ 
selves,  in  some  shape  or  measure,  even  to  the  callow  mind  from  its 
earliest  immaturity.  There  is  that  in  the  very  consciousness  of 
child,  or  of  criminal,  with  which  they  are  in  essential  harmony. 
That  in  him  with  which  they  are  in  essential  correspondence  bears 
witness  of  them.  Nor  is  any  one,  in  his  acceptance  of  them,  wholly 
insensible  of  this  witness  to  their  truth,  which  is,  in  fact,  engraven 
upon  his  own  conscious  being. 

To  ‘  take  religion  on  trust,’  then,  as  it  is  sometimes  derisively 
called,  is  not  really  to  act  in  defiance  of,  or  apart  from,  reason.  It 
is  an  exercise  of  reason  up  to  a  certain  point,  —  just  so,  and  so 
far  as,  the  experience  of  the  person  warrants.  He  sees  what  to 
trust,  and  why.  He  sees  where  understanding  and  experience 
which  transcend  his  own  would  point.  And  he  seeks  for  the 
rational  test  of  further  experience  in  the  only  way  in  which  it  can 
be  had.  He  defers  to  the  voice  of  experience,  in  faith  that  his 
own  experience  will  by  and  by  prove  its  truthfulness.  On  a  medical 
question,  men  would  not  dispute,  they  would  loudly  proclaim,  the 
reasonableness  and  wisdom  of  such  a  course.  Yet  there  are  those 
who  suppose  that  the  truths  of  religion  are  to  admit  of  a  complete 
preliminary  intellectual  verification,  a  verification  apart  from  special 
training  and  experience,  such  as  they  might  more  reasonably 
expect  in  any  other  subject-matter  than  religion,  but  such  as,  in 
fact,  they  hardly  expect  elsewhere. 

The  doctrines  of  the  Church,  then,  accepted  at  first  on  reason¬ 
able  evidence,  which  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  but  perhaps  never 
wholly,  consists  in  authority  reasonably  accepted  as  authority,  are 
then  in  all  the  experience  of  spiritual  life  receiving  continual  com¬ 
ment,  explanation,  corroboration.  The  whole  experience  of  Chris¬ 
tian  life  must  be  a  growth  in  the  apprehension  and  certainty  of 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma .  187 


Christian  truth.  A  Christian  neophyte  may  believe  every  word 
of  his  Creed,  and  believe  neither  ignorantly  nor  unintelligently. 
But  the  veteran  Christian  of  fourscore  will  transcend  the  child  at 
least  as  much  in  the  degree  of  certainty  with  which  the  doctrines 
of  the  Church  are  to  his  entire  faculties,  mental,  moral,  and  spirit- 
1  ual,  proved  and  known  to  be  true,  as  he  can  possibly  do  in  his 
merely  intellectual  apprehension  of  the  history  or  meaning  of  the 
words.  We  may  say,  indeed,  that  the  life  of  a  professing  Chris¬ 
tian  which  is  not  a  life  of  growth  in  the  apprehension  of  doctrinal 
truth,  must  necessarily  be  a  retrogression ;  just  as  the  life  of  so- 
called  scientific  study,  which  is  not  continually  illuminating  afresh, 
and  deepening  the  certainty  of  its  own  scientific  principles,  must 
gradually  come  to  hold  even  its  own  scientific  principles  less  and 
less  certainly,  and  to  mean  by  them  less  and  less. 

But  even  if  it  may  be  shown  that  there  is  not  quite  so  essential 
a  contrast  as  there  seemed  to  be,  between  the  character  of  theo¬ 
logical  and  scientific  dogmas,  by  reason  of  the  'proofs  which  are 
offered,  along  with  his  principles,  to  the  student  of  any  science  ; 
yet  still  it  will  be  felt  that  they  differ  essentially  in  the  tone  and 
manner  with  which  they  respectively  speak  to  intellect.  The 
truths  of  the  one  claim  at  once  to  possess  an  intellectual  finality, 
and  to  command  a  moral  allegiance,  which  the  truths  of  the  other 
do  not. 

It  may  be  worth  while  to  say  in  reply,  first  of  all,  that  there 
cannot  be  a  real  contrast  of  finality  between  them,  so  far  as  they 
are  both  really  true.  What  is  really  true  is  really  true.  Neither 
1  absolutely,’  ‘  finally,’  nor  any  other  adverb  in  the  language  will 
make  the  statement  a  stronger  one.  What  we  call  scientific  truths 
are  not  in  fact  liable  to  correction,  except  in  so  far  as  they  may 
perhaps,  after  all,  not  be  quite  scientific  truths,  except  (that  is)  in 
respect  of  such  admixture  of  erroneous  supposition,  as  still  has 
clung  to  them  after  general  acceptance.  And  on  the  other  hand, 
so  far  as  any  mistaken  assumptions  are  mixed  up  with  our  appre¬ 
hension  of  religious  truths,  so  far  these  too  are  liable  to  receive, 
and  in  the  history  of  Church  doctrine  are  continually  receiving, 
correction.  It  is,  after  all,  a  truism.  In  either  sphere  the  truths, 
so  far  as  they  really  are  truths,  are  true  absolutely  :  but  are  corri¬ 
gible  in  so  far  as  our  statement  of  them  still  contains  anything  that 
is  other  than  truth.  We  may  put  it,  perhaps,  in  another  way  still. 
If,  to  assume  an  impossible  hypothesis,  any  one  could  really  prove, 
not  merely  that  there  were  some  exaggerations  or  misconceptions 
in  the  traditional  mode  of  statement  of  some  doctrinal  truths,  but 
that  our  really  essential  Faith  was  wrong,  we  may  grant  hypotheti- 


1 38 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

• 

cally  (seeing  that  truth  is  supreme)  that  he  would  do  us  all  a  mighty 
service,  at  however  tremendous  a  cost.  Similarly  of  course  it 
must  be  owned,  that  if  any  one  could  prove  the  earth  to  be  flat 
and  stationary,  and  the  law  of  gravitation  to  be  the  precise  contra¬ 
dictory  of  truth,  he  would  do  immense  service  to  science.  But 
none  the  less,  the  scientific  certainty  on  these  points  is  so  com¬ 
plete,  that  if  any  one  seriously  assailed  them,  it  would  be  felt  that 
he  could  only  be  dealing  with  the  evidence  in  a  way  which  tended 
to  compromise  the  credit  of  his  own  reason ;  and  he  would  there¬ 
fore  be  reasonably  held  to  be,  as  it  is  roughly  phrased,  a  fool  or  a 
madman.  And  we  must  claim  that  for  us  the  certainty  of  some 
theological  propositions  is  so  complete  that  when  any  one  assails 
them,  we  are  no  less  reasonable  in  regarding  him  with  concern, 
rather  for  his  own  truth’s  sake  than  for  the  truth  of  our  religion  ; 
and  that,  if  miracles  or  ‘  an  angel  from  heaven  ’  should  seem  to 
bear  witness  for  him,  it  would  still  be  no  bigotry,  but  in  the  strict¬ 
est  sense  our  reasonable  course,  to  refuse  the  witness,  and  to  treat 
it  as  merely  an  attempt  to  ensnare  us  into  falsehood  to  the  real 
requirements  of  our  reason  and  conscience. 

•  Is  the  conclusion,  then,  that  there  is  after  all  no  difference  at  all 
between  the  truths  of  Theology  and  of  Science,  in  respect  of  their 
claim  to  authority?  On  the  contrary,  there  remains  a  perfectly 
real  contrast  of  authority  between  them ;  only  it  is  to  be  looked 
for  elsewhere  than  among  the  conditions  upon  which  our  belief  in 
them  respectively  is  based. 

There  are  two  distinct  senses  in  which  the  doctrines  of  the 
Creed  may  be  said  to  be  authoritative.  It  may  be  meant  that  the 
authoritativeness  is  in  the  manner  in  which  they  are  presented  to 
us  ;  that  is  to  say,  that  (whatever  their  content  may  be)  they  are 
statements  which  we  believe,  and  are  to  believe,  on  the  sole  ground 
that  we  are  told  to  do  so,  without  any  appeal  to  reason  of  our 
own ;  or  it  may  be  meant  that  they  are  statements  whose  content 
is  of  such  nature  and  inherent  importance  that  we  cannot,  in  fact, 
believe  them,  without  thereby  necessarily  being  involved  in  a  train 
of  consequential  obligations  of  thought  and  life.  In  this  latter 
case  the  authoritativeness  lies  not  in  the  manner  of  their  presen¬ 
tation  to  us  or  our  acceptance  of  them,  but  in  that  which  is 
involved  in  the  nature  of  the  truths  themselves,  if  and  whe?i  they 
are  believed. 

Is  it  true  to  say  of  the  Creeds  that  they  are  1  authoritative  ’  in  the 
former  sense  ?  that  is  to  say,  that  they  challenge  our  allegiance, 
and  we  are  bound  to  believe  them,  because  we  are  told  that  thev 
are  true,  without  examination  on  our  part,  and  without  reason? 


Vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  189 

It  has  indeed  been  stated  already  that,  as  between  pupils  and 
teachers,  there  is  in  religious  learning,  as  there  is  in  all  human 
learning  whatever,  scientific  or  otherwise,  a  certain  legitimate  and 
important  field  for  authority  reasonably  accepted  as  authority,  that 
is,  the  authority  of  men  more  learned  and  experienced  than  our¬ 
selves.  Even  this,  of  course,  means  that  the  pupil  believes  the 
things  taught  to  be  strictly  rational  to  the  teacher,  though  they  be 
not  so,  as  yet,  to  himself.  But  is  it  true  in  speaking  of  religion,  to 
carry  this  one  step  further ;  and  to  say  that  in  this  sphere  our 
whole  belief,  and  duty  ot  belief,  rests  upon  authority  as  its  ultimate 
foundation,  the  authority,  not  of  man’s  experience,  but  of  God’s 
command?  It  must,  no  doubt,  be  freely  owned  on  all  sides  that 
it  there  be  a  creed  commanded  of  God,  we  certainly  are  bound  to 
believe  it.  But  is  there?  or  when,  or  how,  was  it  commanded? 
Does  any  one  answer,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ?  or  through 
His  Church?  or  through  the  Bible?  But  who  is  He?  or  what  is 
the  Bible?  or  how  do  we  know?  To  accept  doctrines,  which  we 
otherwise  should  not  accept,  because  we  are  told  to  do  so,  without 
knowing  first  who  told  us,  or  why  we  should  believe  him,  is  simply 
not  a  reasonable  possibility.  But  to  ask  these  questions  and  to 
have  answers  to  them,  and  believe  because  we  are  satisfied  in 
some  way  as  to  the  answers  to  them,  is  certainly  not  to  rest  the 
act  of  believing  on  a  foundation  of  mere  authority  :  essentially 
rather  it  is,  to  go  over  part  of  the  ground  of  the  Creed  first,  and 
be  satisfied  as  to  the  correctness  of  its  main  substance,  and  there¬ 
fore  to  believe  it.  A  Christian  will  not  deny  that  the  doctrines  of 
the  Creed  are  entitled  in  fact  to  be  held  as  authoritative,  in  both  of 
the  senses  distinguished  above.  But  we  cannot  believe  them  on 
God’s  authority  till  we  have  first  believed  in  the  authority  of  God. 
And,  therefore,  their  authoritativeness  in  what  we  have  called  the 
first  sense  is  not  really  the  ultimate  ground  of  our  accepting  them  : 
for  it  is  not  itself  accepted  and  apprehended  by  us,  except  as  a 
consequence  of  our  first  believing  that  which  is  the  main  sub¬ 
stance  of  the  Creed.  It  may  be  the  warrant  to  us  of  this  or  that 
detail  considered  apart ;  but  it  is  not,  and  cannot  ever  be,  the 
original  and  sufficient  cause  of  our  believing  the  whole.  Credo 
lit  intelligam  may  be  the  most  true  and  most  reasonable  motto 
of  the  large  part  of  Christian  faith  and  life  ;  but  it  is  not  inconsis¬ 
tent  with  —  it  is  founded  upon  —  an  ultimate  underlying  intellexi  ut 
crederem. 

There  is,  then,  a  real  and  abiding  difference  between  theological 
and  scientific  dogmas,  in  respect  of  the  authority  with  which 
they  speak  to  us.  But  the  difference  is  one  which  does  not  affect 


190  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

at  all  the  method  or  grounds  of  our  original  belief  in  them  respec¬ 
tively  ;  it  is  to  be  found  exclusively  in  the  different  subject-matter 
of  the  two  when  believed. 

And  herein,  also,  it  is  that  we  find  the  real  answer  to  the  other 
form  of  question,  viz.,  why  should  Theology  claim  to  be  so  much 
more  final  than  science  ?  Much  as  science  has  conquered  of  the 
realm  of  truth,  it  does  not  profess  to  have  conquered  more  than 
a  little.  Of  the  vast  residuum  it  says  nothing.  It  has  no  idea  how 
small  a  proportion  its  present  knowledge  may  bear  to  that  which 
will  one  day  be  known.  Nay,  the  further  it  advances  in  knowledge 
of  truth,  so  much  the  smaller  a  proportion  does  its  realized  truth 
seem  to  it  to  bear  to  that  which  remains  unexplored.  Why  should 
the  theologian  be  less  patient  of  additions  to  theological  knowl¬ 
edge,  such  as  may  some  day  throw  all  his  present  creeds  into  com¬ 
parative  obscurity?  Why  should  the  Christian  Creed  be  fixed 
and  inexpansive  ?  The  question  is  formidable  only  in  an  abstract 
form.  The  reasonable  answer  to  it  confronts  us  the  moment  we 
consider  what  is  the  subject-matter  of  the  Creed.  Scientific  prin¬ 
ciples  are  in  their  very  nature  fragments  of  a  truth  which  is  prac¬ 
tically  infinite.  But  the  Christian  Creed,  if  true  at  all,  cannot 
possibly  be  a  fragment  of  truth.  For  the  Christian  Creed  does 
not  simply  enunciate  so  many  abstract  principles  of  natural  or 
supernatural  life  or  governance.  It  introduces  us  straight  to  a 
supreme  Person,  Himself  the  beginning  and  end,  the  author  and 
upholder  of  all.  Such  a  doctrine  may  be  false ;  but  it  can¬ 
not  be  a  fragment.  The  child  who  believes  in  God,  believes  in 
everything,  though  lie  .  knows  hardly  anything.  He  has  infinitely 
more  yet  to  learn,  as  to  what  his  own  belief  means.  But  he  has 
nothing  to  add  to  it.  The  perfect  knowledge  of  the  universe  would 
not  add  to  it,  but  would  only  explain  it.  It  is,  then,  by  virtue  of 
his  personal  relation  to  a  Personality  which  is  Itself  supreme  and 
-all  inclusive,  that  he  is  guilty  of  no  presumption,  even  though  in 
the  face  of  the  modest  disavowals  of  scientific  men,  he  must  main¬ 
tain  that  his  own  creed  is,  in  its  proper  nature,  even  when  all 
admissions  have  been  made,  rather  a  complete  and  conclusive, 
than  a  partial  or  a  tentative,  statement  of  truth.  But  this  differ¬ 
ence  between  him  and  them  is  the  result  neither  of  any  arrogance 
in  his  temper,  nor  any  lack  in  his  logic,  but  it  follows  necessarily 
from  the  nature  of  the  subject-matter  of  his  creed,  if  and  when  it 
is  believed. 

But  still  this  fact  that,  if  true,  they  are  truths  which  by  the  obvious 
necessity  of  their  subject-matter  speak  to  our  intellects  and  con¬ 
sciences,  with  a  tone  of  such  Divinely  commanding  authority, 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  191 


ought  not  to  make  me  or  any  one  accept  them  as  true,  unless  the 
evidence  for  them  is  adequate.  The  question  is  not  how  authori¬ 
tative  they  would  be,  if  true  ;  nor  how  important  or  inclusive  they 
would  be,  if  true  ;  nor  is  any  amount  of  contingent  importance  or 
authority  adequate  evidence  for  their  truth,  but  only  a  motive  for 
inquiring  into  its  evidence.  The  question  is,  Are  they  true  ?  or 
Are  they  not  true  ?  and  the  question  is  a  question  of  evidence. 

II.  And  now,  in  recurring  once  more  to  the  subject  of  the 
evidence  by  which  the  dogmas  of  religion  are  proved,  from  which 
we  diverged  just  now,  we  find,  in  respect  of  it,  a  second  reality  of 
contrast  between  theological  truths  and  the  truths  of  material 
science.  For  whilst  in  both  cases  equally  we  depend  upon 
evidence,  and  evidence  that  is  adequate  ;  it  does  not  follow  that 
the  evidence  for  both  is  in  all  points  similar  in  kind.  In  great 
part  indeed  it  is  so  ;  but  it  is  certainly  not  so  altogether.  For 
when  we  speak  of  the  evidence  of  religious  truths,  it  is  to  be 
remembered  that  the  full  evidence  by  which  our  consciences  are 
wholly  convinced  of  them,  is  not  of  one  kind  only,  but  of  all  kinds. 
The  facts  of  religion  address  themselves  to  the  whole  nature  of 
man ;  and  it  is  only  by  the  whole  nature  of  man  that  they  can 
ever  be  fully  apprehended.  Man  is  not  a  being  of  intellectual 
conceptions  or  faculties  only.  And  because  he  is  not  so,  therefore 
no  set  of  principles  which  could  be  apprehended  by  the  intellect 
alone  (as  the  theorems  of  Euclid  may  appear  to  be),  and  which 
make  for  their  acceptance  no  demand  at  all  upon  the  qualities  of 
his  moral  or  spiritual  being,  could  really  present,  as  religion  pro¬ 
fesses  to  present,  a  system  of  truth  and  life  which  would  be  ade¬ 
quate  to  the  scope  of  his  whole  nature.  It  is  undoubtedly  the 
case  that  just  as  the  truths  of  religion  account  for,  and  appeal  to, 
his  whole  being,  so  the  evidence  for  them  appeals  to  his  whole 
being  also.  For  its  complete  appreciation  there  are  requirements 
other  than  intellectual.  There  must  be  not  only  certain  endowments 
of  mind,  but  the  life  of  a  moral  being.  There  must  be  moral  affec¬ 
tions,  moral  perceptions,  spiritual  affinities  and  satisfactions.  Even 
if  the  primary  conviction  of  his  reason  may  be  apart  from  these, 
yet  of  the  fully  developed  evidence,  which  is  the  real  possession 
of  the  Christian  believer,  these  are  a  most  important  and  necessary 
part.  Without  these,  his  certainty,  adequate  though  it  might  be, 
would  be  far  less  profound  than  it  is.  These  are  to  him  essential 
ingredients  in  the  richness  and  the  fulness  of  the  evidence  which  to 
him  is  everywhere.  Now  for  this  necessary  width  of  the  full  con¬ 
firmatory  evidence  of  religion,  it  is  impossible  for  the  religious 
man,  with  the  utmost  desire  to  make  every  allowance  and  apology 


192 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


that  is  possible,  to  offer  any  apology  at  all.  So  far  from  being  a 
mark  of  inconsistency  or  feebleness,  it  is  a  necessary  note  of  the 
completeness  of  religion.  Religion  professes  to  have  for  its  sub¬ 
ject-matter,  and  in  a  measure  incomplete,  but  relatively  adequate, 
to  include,  to  account  for,  and  to  direct,  the  whole  range  of  all 
man’s  history,  all  man’s  capacities,  explored  or  unexplored,  all  man’s 
destiny  now  and  forever.  If  its  truths  and  their  evidence  were 
found  to  address  themselves  exclusively  to  the  intellect,  in  isolation 
from  the  other  qualities  and  experiences  of  man’s  nature,  it  would 
be  self-convicted  of  inadequacy.  If  men  full  of  worldliness  of 
heart  and  self-indulgence  could  be  capable  of  understanding  the 
revelation  of  religious  truth  as  accurately,  of  embracing  it  as  com¬ 
pletely,  of  apprehending  the  depth  and  the  width  of  the  evidence 
for  it  (with  which  all  human  nature  really  is  saturated)  as  thoroughly 
as  the  prayerful  and  the  penitent,  this  would  not  mean  that  religion 
or  religious  evidence  had  been  lifted  up  on  to  a  higher  and  more 
properly  scientific  level,  but  rather  that  it  had  ‘shrunk  down  into 
correspondence  merely  with  a  part,  and  not  the  noblest  part,  of 
man’s  present  nature. 

It  would  be  far  beyond  the  scope  of  this  paper  to  discuss  kinds 
of  evidence,  or  argue  in  defence  of  the  position  that  there  is  real 
evidence  for  religious  truth,  which  is  none  the  less  properly  evi¬ 
dence,  because  it  is  different  in  kind  from  the  evidence  for  the 
propositions  of  material  science ;  but  it  may  be  permissible,  at 
least,  in  passing  to  record  the  claim,  and  to  insist  that  religious 
men,  in  confining  themselves  to  strictly  historical  or  logical  argu¬ 
ments,  are  necessarily  omitting  much  which  is  nevertheless,  to 
them,  real  ground.  There  are  evidences  which  can  speak  to  the 
heart,  the  imagination,  the  conscience,  as  well  as  the  intelligence. 
Or,  perhaps,  we  shall  come  nearer  to  an  exact  expression  of  the 
truth,  by  saying  that  the  intelligence,  which  can  apprehend  and 
pronounce  upon  the  evidence  of  truths  of  spiritual  consciousness, 
is  an  intelligence  identical  in  name,  but  not  identical  in  nature, 
with  that  which  can  well  weigh  and  judge  purely  logical  —  or  even 
that  which  can  pronounce  upon  moral  —  problems.  The  intelli¬ 
gence  of  a  moral  character,  or  of  a  spiritual  personality,  differs  not 
in  range  only,  but  in  quality,  from  that  of  a  merely  ‘  rational  ani¬ 
mal.’  If  the  moral  and  the  spiritual  intelligence  did  not  contain 
quite  other  elements,  drawn  from  quite  other  experiences  and  pos¬ 
sibilities,  they  could  not  work  upon  their  higher  subject-matter  at 
all.  To  the  religious  man, v therefore,  it  must  seem  strictly  unrea¬ 
sonable,  in  the  examination  of  truths  which  professedly  correspond 
to  man’s  whole  nature,  and  need  his  whole  nature  and  experience 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  193 


for  the  intrepretation  of  them,  to  begin  by  shutting  out,  as  irrele¬ 
vant,  what  we  will  modestly  call  the  half  of  man's  nature  ;  and  to 
demand  that  the  truths  shall  be  so  stated  and  so  proved  as  that 
the  statements  and  proofs  shall  correspond  exclusively  with  the 
other  half,  and  find  in  that  other  half  their  whole  interpretation 
and  their  whole  evidence. 

It  may,  indeed,  be  desirable  to  guard  against  a  misconception, 
by  the  express  admission  that  there  is  some  necessary  ambiguity 
in  the  terms  employed.  We  may  seem  to  have  unduly  extended 
both  the  verbal  meaning,  and  the  sphere  of  importance,  of  ‘  evi¬ 
dence  ’  and  ‘  proof.’  Undoubtedly  there  is  a  sense  in  which  it 
would  be,  not  merely  true  to  admit,  but  important  to  insist,  that 
in  the  acceptance  of  religious  truth,  Faith  neither  is,  nor  ever  can 
be,  displaced,  in  order  that  Demonstration  may  be  enthroned  in 
her  place.  But  then  Demonstration  is  a  word  which  belongs  to 
strictly  logical  nomenclature.  And  the  very  point  here  insisted  on 
is  that  the  strictly  logical  presentment  of  religion  is,  in  reference  to 
the  real  presentment  of  religion,  most  inadequate.  Undoubtedly, 
if  everything  else  is  shorn  away,  and  religion  remains  solely  and 
only  in  the  form  of  strict  logic,  without  sentiment,  without  imagin¬ 
ation,  without  experience  of  duty,  or  sin,  or  right,  or  aspiration,  or 
anything  else  which  belongs  to  the  spiritual  consciousness  of 
human  personalities,  the  logic  of  it  is,  and  must  be,  imperfectly 
conclusive. 

Now  words  such  as  ‘evidence,’  ‘proof,’  ‘intelligence,’  are  no 
doubt  often  used  in  connection  with  processes  of  the  intellect 
taken  apart  —  the  intellect  of  a  being  merely  rational.  In  insisting, 
therefore,  that  the  word  ‘  evidence,’  when  used  in  reference  to 
religious  subject-matter,  must  include  data  which,  to  the  observer 
of  physical  phenomena,  would  seem  vague  and  impalpable ;  and 
that  intelligence,  as  adequately  trained  to  apprehend  and  give  judg¬ 
ment  upon  religious  evidence,  is  in  some  respects  other,  and  more, 
than  that  intelligence  which  can  deal  with  evidence  into  which  no 
element  of  spiritual  consciousness  enters,  —  we  differ,  perhaps,  at 
the  most,  more  in  form  than  reality,  from  those  who  simply  depre¬ 
cate  the  appeal  to  ‘  evidence  ’  or  ‘  proof’  in  matters  of  faith. 

To  the  religious  man,  then,  the  fulness  of  Christian  evidence  is 
as  many  sided  as  human  life.  There  is  historical  evidence, — 
itself  of  at  least  a  dozen  different  kinds,  —  literary  evidence,  met¬ 
aphysical  evidence,  moral  evidence,  evidence  of  sorrow  and  joy, 
of  goodness  and  of  evil,  of  sin  and  of  pardon,  of  despair  and  of 
hope,  of  life  and  of  death  ;  evidence  which  defies  enumerating ; 
into  this  the  whole  gradual  life  of  the  Christian  grows;  and  there 

13 


194 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


is  no  part  nor  element  of  life  which  does  not  to  him  perpetually 
elucidate  and  confirm  the  knowledge  which  has  been  given  him. 
Everything  that  is  or  has  been,  every  consciousness,  every  possi¬ 
bility,  even  every  doubt  or  wavering,  becomes  to  the  Christian  a 
part  of  the  certainty  —  an  element  in  the  absorbing  reality  —  of 
his  Creed. 

But  this  is  rather  the  end  than  the  beginning.  Certainly  it  is 
not  thus  that  the  Creed  of  the  Church  can  present  itself  to  those 
whose  life  is  still  independent  of  the  Creed. 

Let  us  consider,  then,  how  the  truths  of  the  Creed  did  first,  in 
fact,  introduce  themselves  to  human  consciousness.  There  are 
three  several  stages  of  its  presentment  in  history,  of  which  the 
central  one  is  so  overmastering  in  importance  that  it  alone  gives 
their  character  to  the  other  two.  They  are,  first  the  leading  up, 
in  the  world’s  history  and  consciousness,  to  the  life  of  Jesus 
Christ;  secondly,  the  life  and  death  of  Jesus  Christ;  thirdly,  the 
results,  in  history  and  consciousness,  of  the  life  and  death  of 
Jesus  Christ.  We  may  say,  perhaps,  that  of  the  first  of  these  the 
main  outcome  was  belief  in  God ;  and  such  a  God,  that  belief  in 
Him  carried  with  it  the  two  corollaries  of  aspiration  aiter  right¬ 
eousness  and  conviction  of  sin.  We  may  say  that  the  third  of 
these  means  the  establishment  of  the  Church  upon  earth,  and  the 
articulating  of  her  consciousness  according  to  the  Creeds.  But 
in  any  case  all  the  three  are  plainly  historical,  matters  of  historical 
inquiry,  of  historical  evidence  ;  and  all  plainly  depend  entirely 
upon  the  intermediate  one,  the  history  of  a  certain  human  life 
which  purports  to  be  — which  either  is,  or  is  not  —  the  hinge-point 
of  all  history  whatever. 

All  turns,  then,  upon  a  certain  passage  of  history.  *Ts  the 
history,  as  believed  by  Christians,  true  or  false?  The  Christian 
record  of  that  history  is  the  New  Testament.  Indeed,  of  that 
history,  the  New  Testament  is  the  only  record.  Is,  then,  the 
history  of  the  teaching  and  the  work,  the  life  and  the  death,  of 
Jesus  Christ,  presented  to  us  in  the  New  Testament  as  a  chapter 
of  historical  fact,  —  is  it  historical  fact,  or  is  it  not  ?  The  Incarna¬ 
tion  is  either  a  fact,  or  a  fiction.  The  Incarnation  means  also  for 
Christians  the  Atonement.  For  our  present  purpose,  the  Incarna¬ 
tion  may  be  taken  as  necessarily  including  the  Atonement.  But 
still  of  this  complex  fact  the  dilemma  stands.  If  it  is  not  true,  it 
is  false.  There  is  no  middle  term.  If  it  is  not  true,  then,  whether 
dogma  in  itself  is,  or  is  not,  desirable,  at  least  all  the  dogma  of  the 
Christian  Church  is  false. 


Vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma .  195 


The  Incarnation  and  the  Atonement  together  are  not  presented 
in  the  New  Testament  as,  by  their  own  mere  statement,  guarantee¬ 
ing  themselves.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  one  single,  definite, 
historical  fact,  which  is  represented  there  as  the  central  heart  and 
core  of  the  evidence  upon  which  the  conviction  of  their  truth 
depends.  This  fact  is  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  from  the 
dead.  Though  this  is  not  the  whole  of  the  Christian  Creed,  yet 
this,  according  to  St.  Paul,  is,  to  the  whole  of  the  Christian  Creed, 
crucial.  ‘  If  there  be  no  resurrection  from  the  dead,  then  is  Christ 
not  risen ;  and  if  Christ  be  not  risen,  then  is  our  preaching  vain, 
and  your  faith  is  also  vain.  Yea,  and  we  are  found  false  witnesses 
of  God  ;  because  we  have  testified  of  God,  that  He  raised  up 
Christ ;  whom  He  raised  not  up,  if  so  be  that  the  dead  rise  not. 
For  if  the  dead  rise  not,  then  is  not  Christ  raised;  and  if  Christ 
be  not  raised,  your  faith  is  vain,  ye  are  yet  in  your  sins.’  To  be 
direct  personal  evidence  of  a  certain  fact,  and  that  fact  the  resur¬ 
rection,  —  this  was,  in  the  view  of  St.  Peter  and  the  Apostles,  the 
first  qualification,  and  the  central  meaning,  of  Apostleship  :  ‘  must 
one  be  ordained  to  be  a  witness  with  us  of  His  resurrection ;  ’ 
1  this  Jesus  hath  God  raised  up,  whereof  we  all  are  witnesses .’ 
Upon  the  historical  truth  or  falsehood,  then,  of  the  resurrection, 
hangs  the  whole  question  of  the  nature  and  work  of  Jesus  Christ, 
the  whole  doctrine  of  Incarnation  and  Atonement. 

But  in  saying  this,  it  is  necessary  to  guard  our  proper  meaning. 
If  we  admit  the  fact  of  the  Resurrection  to  be  cardinal,  what  is 
the  fact  of  the  Resurrection  which  is  in  question?  It  is  as  far  as 
possible  from  being  simply  a  question  whether  ‘  a  man  ’  could  or 
could  not,  did  or  did  not,  reappear,  after  death,  in  life.  When 
we  speak  of  the  historical  fact,  we  must  mean  at  least  the  whole 
fact  with  all  that  it  was  and  meant,  complex  as  it  was  and  many 
sided ;  not  with  its  meaning  or  its  proof  isolated  upon  a  single 
page  of  the  book  of  history,  but  having  far-reaching  affinities,  parts 
essentially  of  its  interpretation  and  of  its  evidence,  entwined  in  the 
depths  of  the  whole  constitution  of  our  nature,  and  the  whole 
drama  of  history  from  the  first  moment  to  the  last.  However 
much  Christians  may  have  at  times  to  argue  about  the  simple 
evidence  for  the  ‘  yes’  or  ‘  no  ’  of  the  Resurrection  of  Jesus,  as  if 
it  were  the  alleged  resurrection  of  any  other  man  that  was  in 
question,  neither  the  question  itself,  nor  the  evidence  about  it, 
can  possibly  be,  in  fact,  of  the  same  nature  or  upon  the  same 
level,  as  the  evidence  about  another.  No  amount  of  conviction  of 
the  reappearance  in  life  of  any  other  man,  would  have  any  similar 
meaning,  or  carry  any  similar  consequences.  The  inherent  char- 


196 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


acter  of  Him  who  rose,  and  the  necessary  connection  between 
what  He  was,  and  had  said  and  claimed  for  Himself,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  on  the  other  His  rising  out  of  death :  this  is  an  essen¬ 
tial  part  of  that  fact  of  the  resurrection,  which  comes  up  for  proof 
or  disproof.  The  fact  that  Jesus  Christ,  being  what  He  was,  the 
climax  and  fulfilment  of  a  thousand  converging  lines  —  nay,  of  all 
the  antecedent  history  of  mankind  —  rose  from  the  dead,  and  by 
that  fact  of  resurrection  (solemnly  fore-announced,  yet  none  the 
less  totally  unlooked  for)  illuminated  and  explained  for  the  first 
time  all  that  before  had  seemed  enigmatical  or  contradictory  in 
what  He  was,  —  and  indeed  in  all  humanity ;  this  is  the  real  fact 
of  the  resurrection  which  confronts  us.  It  is  this  vast  fact  which 
is  either  true  or  false.  The  resurrection  of  the  crucified  Jesus 
cannot  possibly  be  a  bare  or  simple  fact.  When  viewed  as  a 
material  manifestation  of  the  moment  only,  it  is  at  least  misunder¬ 
stood  ;  it  may  be  unintelligible.  It  is,  no  doubt,  an  event  in 
history ;  and  yet  it  confronts  11s,  even  there  in  its  place  and  wit¬ 
ness  in  history,  not  simply  as  a  finite  historical  event,  but  as  an 
eternal  counsel  and  infinite  act  of  God. 

Yet  there  are  times  when  we  must  consent  to  leave  much  of  all 
this,  for  the  moment,  on  one  side.  Whatever  else  the  event  in  his¬ 
tory  may  carry  with  it,  of  course  it  must  stand  its  ground  as  a  mere 
historical  event.  The  mere  fact  may  be  but  a  part  of  it ;  yet  all  will 
be  overthrown  if  the  fact  be  not  fact.  And  so,  though  the  truths 
of  the  Christian  religion,  and  the  evidence  for  them,  be  at  least  as 
wide  as  was  represented  above,  yet  they  present  themselves  to  our 
minds  still,  as  they  presented  themselves  at  first  to  the  minds  of 
men,  within  the  sphere  and  the  rules  of  ordinary  human  history  and 
historical  evidence.  Here  are  events  written  on  the  page  of  his¬ 
tory.  Examine  them.  Are  they  historically  false  or  true?  If 
they  be  not  false,  what  do  they  mean  and  involve  ?  This  is  the 
modest  way  in  which  they  present  themselves. 

No  one  will  now  dispute  that  Jesus  died  upon  the  Cross.  If  He 
did  not,  on  the  third  day,  rise  again  from  that  death  to  life,  cadit 
quaestio ;  all  Christian  dogma,  all  Christian  faith,  is  at  an  end. 
Something  might  still  be  true  which  might  be  of  interest ;  some¬ 
thing,  even,  which  for  sheer  want  of  a  better,  might  be  still  the 
most  interesting  fact  in  the  world’s  long  history ;  but  something 
which  from  the  first  line  to  the  last,  would  be  essentially  different 
from  the  Catholic  faith.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  He  did  so  rise 
again,  then  the  fact  of  His  resurrection  necessarily  raises  further 
questions  as  to  His  nature  and  being, —  necessarily  requires  the 
understanding  of  further  truths  for  its  own  intelligent  explanation. 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  197 


Now  the  present  paper  is  not  an  evidential  treatise.  It  is  no  part 
of  our  task  to  attempt  to  prove  the  historical  reality  of  the  resur¬ 
rection.  What  it  does  concern  us  to  notice  is  the  way  in  which 
the  determination  of  all  Christian  truth  hinges  upon  it.  If  it  falls, 
all  the  rest  will  drift  away,  anchorless  and  unsubstantial,  into  the 
region  of  a  merely  beautiful  dreamland.  As  dreamland,  indeed,  it 
may  still  captivate  and  inspire ;  but  anchor  of  sure  fact  there  will 
be  none.  It  will  only  be  a  beautiful  imagination,  —  a  false  mirage 
reflected  from,  based  upon,  falsehood.  No  doubt  imagination  is 
sovereign  in  the  lives  of  men.  But  then  imagination  means  the 
vivifying  of  truth,  not  the  spectral  embodiment  of  a  lie. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  fact  of  the  resurrection  stands,  then  it 
cannot  stand  alone.  If  Jesus  Christ  so  lived  and  taught  as  even 
the  most  indefinite  believers  concede  that  He  lived  and  taught,  if 
He  then  died  on  the  Cross,  and  rose  again  the  third  day  from  the 
dead ,  you  have  indeed  already  the  foundation  dogma  of  the  Creed  ; 
and  having  that,  you  cannot  possibly  rest  in  it :  that  foundation 
fact  will  absolutely  compel  you  to  ask  and  to  answer  certain  further 
necessary  questions  ;  and  whatever  intelligible  answer  you  may 
choose  to  give  to  them  will  be  essentially  a  dogmatic  definition. 
Who  or  what  was  this  man  who  thus  lived,  thus  spoke,  thus  died, 
and  thus  rose  from  the  dead?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  whole 
Church  of  Christ  in  history  (including  the  men  who  had  been  His 
own  companions,  trained  and  inspired  by  Himself)  taught  and 
believed,  without  shadow  of  hesitation,  that  He  was  very  God. 
Very  gradually,  indeed,  had  they  advanced  to  this  ;  step  by  step, 
through  their  growing  intimacy  with  a  character  whose  very  excel¬ 
lences  were  only  enigmatical  and  confounding,  so  long  as  the 
master-truth,  which  lay  behind  them,  was  ignored.  And  very  ten¬ 
tative,  on  His  side,  was  the  method  of  His  self-revelation ;  through 
qualities,  through  inherent  powers,  through  explicit  teachings, 
slowly  felt,  slowly  recognized,  as  transcendent,  as  impossible, 
except  in  relation  to  a  truth  which,  after  long  misconceptions  and 
perplexities,  is  seen  by  them  at  last  not  only  to  be  true,  but  to  be 
the  essential  truth  which  He  Himself  requires  of  them.  For  be 
the  method  as  gradual  and  as  tentative  as  you  please,  these  wit¬ 
nesses,  who  are,  in  fact,  the  only  witnesses  the  world  ever  has  had, 
or  can  have,  of  His  inner  life  and  teaching,  testify  unhesitatingly 
not  only  that  all  true  acceptance  of  Him  was,  in  their  judg¬ 
ment,  acceptance  of  Him  as  God,  but  that  His  life  and  death 
were  penetrated  by  the  consciousness  of  His  own  Godhead ;  and 
by  the  deliberate  purpose  (through  whatever  unexpected  patience 
of  method)  of  convincing  the  whole  world  in  the  end  of  His 


1 98  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

Godhead,  and  receiving  universal  belief,  and  universal  worship  as 
God. 

Now  no  one  to-day  disputes  that  He  was  truly  man.  Is  it  true 
that  He  was  very  God  ?  It  is  either  true  or  false.  As  to  the  fact 
there  are  only  the  two  alternatives.  And  between  the  two  the  gulf  is 
impassable.  If  it  is  not  false,  it  is  true.  If  it  is  not  absolutely 
true,  it  is  absolutely  false.  According  to  the  faith  of  the  Catholic 
Church  it  is  absolutely  true.  According  to  the  highest  form  of 
Arianism,  not  less  than  according  to  the  barest  Socinianism,  it  is 
(however  you  may  try  to  gloss  it  over)  absolutely  false. 

Once  more,  it  is  quite  beyond  our  province  to  marshal  or  press 
argumentatively  the  proofs  that  He  was  indeed  God.  But  it  is  ne¬ 
cessary  to  see  with  perfect  clearness  how  the  question  must  have 
been  raised,  and  being  raised,  must  have  been  answered.  The 
very  life  of  the  Church  was  belief  in  Him ;  and  she  could  not 
remain  fundamentally  uncertain  as  to  who  or  what  He  was  in 
Whom  she  believed.  This  was  the  one  thing  which  had  never 
been  allowed  to  those  who  drew  near  Christ.  All  through  His 
ministry  those  who  came  near  Him,  and  felt  the  spell  of  His 
presence,  His  holiness,  His  power,  were  undergoing  a  training  and 
a  sifting.  Moment  by  moment,  step  by  step,  the  accumulating 
evidence  of  His  transcendently  perfect  humanity  kept  forcing  more 
and  more  upon  them  all  the  question  which  He  would  never  let 
them  escape,  the  question  by  which  they  were  to  be  tested  and 
judged  :  1  What  think  ye  of  Christ?  5  4  If  ye  believe  not  that  I  am 

He,  ye  shall  die  in  your  sins.  ’ 

If  there  is  a  true  historical  sense  in  which  the  clear  definition  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  Divinity  of  Jesus  Christ  must  be  assigned  to 
the  Councils  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  yet  it  would  be  a 
great  historical  blunder  to  state  or  imagine,  as  inference,  that  till 
then  the  doctrine  was  only  held  partially  or  with  imperfect  con¬ 
sciousness  in  the  Catholic  Church.  The  Church  did  not,  as  a 
result  of  those  controversies,  develop  the  consciousness  of  any  new 
doctrine ;  the  development  of  her  consciousness  was  rather  in 
respect  of  the  shallow  but  tempting  logic  which  would  deform,  or 
the  delusions  which  might  counterfeit,  her  doctrine,  and  of  the 
perils  to  which  these  must  lead.  It  may  be  a  question,  indeed, 
how  far  the  words  implicit  and  explicit  do,  or  do  not,  represent  the 
distinction  between  the  dogmatic  consciousness  of  the  Apostolic 
and  the  Conciliar  ages.  The  difficulty  in  determining  depends 
solely  on  this,  that  the  words  themselves  are  used  with  different 
meanings.  Thus,  sometimes  men  are  said  to  hold  implicitly  what 
they  never  perhaps  suspected  themselves  of  holding,  if  it  can  be 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  199 

shown  to  be  a  more  or  less  legitimate  outcome,  or  logical  develop¬ 
ment,  of  their  belief.  If  such  men  advance  inferentially  from 
point  to  point,  their  explicit  belief  at  a  later  time  may  be  in  many 
particulars  materially  different  from  what  it  had  been  at  an  earlier ; 
even  though  it  might  be  logically  shown  that  the  earlier  thought 
was,  more  or  less  directly,  the  parent  of  the  later.  Now  in  any 
such  sense -as  this  we  shall  stoutly  maintain  that,  from  the  begin¬ 
ning,  the  Church  held  dogmatic  truths  not  implicitly,  but  explicitly 
and  positively.  They  who  baptized  into  the  threefold  Name  of 
the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  whose  blessing 
was  ‘The  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  love  of  God, 
and  the  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  ’  who  living  in  the  Spirit, 
lived  in  Christ ;  whose  highest  worship  was  the  Communion  of  the 
Body  and  the  Blood  of  Christ,  and  whose  perfectness  of  life  was 
Christ ;  they,  so  living  and  worshipping,  did  not  hold  the  Godhead 
of  Jesus  Christ  implicitly;  they  did  not  hold  something  out  of 
which  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  might  come  to  be  unfolded.  On 
the  other  hand,  you  may  use  the  same  contrast  of  words,  meaning 
merely  that  you  have,  through  cross-questioning  or  otherwise, 
obtained  a  power  which  you  did  not  possess,  of  defining,  in 
thought  and  in  words,  the  limits  of  your  belief,  and  distinguishing 
it  precisely  from  whatever  does  not  belong  to  it.  You  hold  still 
what  you  always  meant  to  hold.  You  say  still  what  you  always 
meant  to  say.  But  it  is  your  intellectual  mastery  over  your  own 
meaning  which  is  altered.  Like  a  person  fresh  from  the  encoun¬ 
ter  of  a  keen  cross-examination,  you  are  furnished  now,  as  you 
were  not  before,  with  distinctions  and  comparisons,  with  definitions 
and  measurements,  —  in  a  word,  with  all  that  intellectual  equipment, 
that  furniture  of  alert  perception  and  exact  language,  by  which  you 
are  able  to  realize  for  yourself,  as  well  as  to  define  to  others,  what 
that  meaning  exactly  is,  and  what  it  is  not,  which  itself  was  before, 
as  truly  as  it  is  now,  the  very  thing  that  you  meant. 

In  this  sense,  no  doubt,  the  definitions  of  councils  did  make 
Christian  consciousness  more  explicit  in  relation  to  positive  truth. 
They  acquired,  indeed,  no  new  truth.  Primarily  they  were  rather, 
on  this  side  or  on  that,  a  blocking  off  of  such  false  forms  of  thought 
or  avenues  of  unbalanced  inference,  as  forced  themselves  forward, 
one  by  one,  amidst  the  intellectual  efforts  of  the  time,  to  challenge 
the  acceptance  of  Christian  people.  Primarily  they  are  not  the 
Church  saying  ‘yes’  to  fresh  truths  or  developments,  or  forms  of 
consciousness  ;  but  rather  saying  ‘  no  ’  to  untrue  and  misleading 
modes  of  shaping  and  stating  her  truth.  Only  indirectly,  in  that 
effort,  the  Church  acquires  through  them  a  new  definiteness  of 


200  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

mastery  for  the  intellect  in  reference  to  the  exactness  of  her  own 
meaning. 

It  is  comparatively  easy  for  those  who  are  convinced  of  a  truth 
to  struggle  against  its  open  contradiction.  But  false  modes  of  stat¬ 
ing  their  truth,  and  unbalanced  inferences  from  their  truth,  are 
often  staggering  to  minds  which  would  be  unperplexed  by  any  less 
insidious  form  of  error.  It  may  be  that,  in  all  ages  of  the  Church, 
even  those  who  are  born  and  bred  in  undoubting  faith  in  the  Per¬ 
son  of  Jesus,  have  to  pass,  more  or  less  explicitly,  through  their 
own  experience  of  hesitation  and  exaggeration,  of  reaction  and 
counter-reaction,  before  they  are  quite  in  a  position  to  define,  or 
maintain  by  argument  in  the  face  of  insidious  alternatives,  the 
exact  proportion  of  their  own  Catholic  belief. 

Not  unsuggestively,  indeed,  nor  indirectly,  do  the  oscillations  of 
the  public  consciousness  in  the  era  of  the  councils,  as  to  the  due 
expression  of  Catholic  belief,  reproduce  on  a  larger  scale,  and 
therefore  with  more  magnified  clumsiness,  the  alternating  exagger¬ 
ations  of  such  a  single,  struggling  mind.  The  natural  thought 
begins,  as  a  matter  of  course,  as  Apostles  had  begun  of  old,  with 
the  perfect  and  obvious  certainty  that  Jesus  was  a  man.  Then 
comes  the  mighty  crisis  to  natural  thought.  With  infinite  heavings 
and  stragglings,  and  every  conceivable  expedient  of  evasion,  it 
strains  to  avoid  the  immense  conclusion  which  challenges  it,  catch¬ 
ing  eagerly  at  every  refinement,  if  so  be  it  may  be  possible  to  stop 
short  of  full  acceptance  of  a  truth  so  staggering  (when  it  comes  to 
be  measured  intellectually  )  as  that  the  Man  Jesus  was  Himself  the 
Eternal  God.  Now  however  grossly  unjust  it  might  be  to  think  of 
Arianism  as  if  it  ever  meant,  or  held,  Jesus  Christ  to  be  merely  a 
man  ;  yet  it  is  true  that  in  respect  of  the  one  great  question  which 
is  at  the  root  of  Christian  faith,  —  is  He  God,  or  is  He  not?  —  it 
stands  as  offering  alternatives  and  expedients,  by  which  the  plain 
answer  ‘  yes  ’  may  be  avoided ;  by  which  therefore  the  answer 
1  no  ’  is  in  effect  maintained  ;  for  between  1  God  ’  and  ‘  not  God  * 
the  distinction  cannot  be  bridged.  This,  then,  is  the  real  hinge- 
point  of  the  Catholic  faith.  But  when  this,  the  greatest  of  all  bat¬ 
tles  of  belief,  is  won  at  last,  in  spite  of  every  variety  of  Arian  and 
semi-Arian  refining ;  forthwith  the  undisciplined  mind,  always 
ready  to  exaggerate,  always  difficult  of  balance,  begins  so  to  ran 
into  ardor  of  expression  of  its  truth,  as  in  effect  to  make  unreal  the 
other  half  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation.  The  first  great  won¬ 
der  once  grasped,  it  is  so  natural,  in  fervor  of  insistence  on  the 
very  Godhead,  to  forget  or  deny  the  simple  completeness  of  the 
very  Manhood  !  It  seems  so  hard,  —  almost  wanting  in  reverence, 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  201 

—  still  to  conceive  of  Him  then  as  perfectly  human,  —  human  body 
and  human  soul !  What  more  obvious  reaction  in  the  mind  of  any 
pupil  not  yet  perfectly  steadied  and  balanced?  Yet  these  few 
short  sentences  represent  not  untruly  the  real  process  of  education, 
painfully  accomplished  by  those  intellectual  struggles  which  cul¬ 
minated  in  the  councils  of  Nicaea  and  Constantinople,  in  325  and 
381  respectively.  And  when  the  pupil  is  steadied  from  this  second 
excess,  and  the  Godhead  and  the  Manhood  are  both  grasped,  each 
severally,  each  completely,  there  follows  again  a  perfectly  natural 
result  in  a  new  uncertainty  about  the  union  of  the  two  in  Jesus. 
Again  it  seems  an  instinct  of  reverence  which  shrinks  from  the 
truth.  For  the  Manhood,  it  is  urged,  though  complete,  body,  soul, 
and  spirit,  must  yet  remain,  in  Him,  a  thing  separable  and  separate 
from  His  own  original  Divine  personality.  But  if  the  human  nat¬ 
ure  was  not  verily  His  own  nature,  if  it  was  animated  by  any  con¬ 
sciousness  which  was  not  absolutely  His  own  consciousness,  the 
consciousness  of  His  one  undivided  personality,  —  what  or  whence 
in  Him  was  this  other  than  His  own  individual  consciousness?  Is 
it  so,  then,  the  mind  begins  necessarily  to  ask  itself,  that  the  mys¬ 
tery  of  the  Incarnate  Life  was  the  mystery  of  a  double  conscious¬ 
ness,  a  double  personality?  two  distinguishable  existences,  two 
selves,  two  identities,  side  by  side,  harmonious,  allied,  yet  nowhere 
really  meeting  in  any  one  underlying  principle  of  unity?  It  was 
necessary  that  the  doubt  should  be  raised,  that  its  meaning  and 
results  might  be  measured.  But  it  is  this  which  becomes  the  Nes- 
torianism  against  which  the  council  of.  Ephesus  in  431  set  the  seal 
of  Catholic  belief.  Once  more,  the  natural  reaction  from  Nestori- 
anism,  when  the  believer  is  keenly  alert  against  its  danger,  is  so  to 
insist  upon  the  indivisible  Personal  unity,  as  to  shrink  from  the 
admission  of  any  distinguishableness  in  Him,  actual  or  possible, 
between  the  two  natures  or  characters  which  He  united,  between  the 
human  and  the  Divine  elements  m  His  one  consciousness.  But  this 
is  either  once  more  to  curtail  the  true  completeness  of  the  human 
nature,  or  to  fuse  it  with  the  Divine  into  some  new  thing  not  truly 
identical  with  either.  And  this  is  the  Monophysitism  of  451,  the 
subject-matter  of  the  fourth  great  general  council  at  Chalcedon. 

It  is  said,  indeed,  that  the  ages  of  councils  were  uncritical  ages  ; 
and  that  their  decisions  are  therefore  not  to  be  accepted  as  author¬ 
itative  on  questions  of  minute  theological  criticism,  for  which  their 
uncritical  spirit  made  them  specially  unfit.  The  assertion  is  per¬ 
haps  a  little  beside  the  mark.  You  have  not  to  plead  that  they 
were  likely  to  be  uncritical,  but  to  show  that  they  were  in  fact 
wrong.  It  is  clear  that  they  were  not  specially  unfit  either  to 


202  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

arrive  at  a  definiteness  of  meaning,  or  to  express  what  they  meant. 
They  were  sure  what  they  meant ;  and  have  expressed  it  with  per¬ 
fect  clearness.  The  question  is  not  how  critical  they  were  likely  to 
be,  but  whether  their  meaning  —  which  is  clear  —  is  right  or  wrong. 
Whatever  antecedent  probability  there  may  be  either  in  the  minds 
of  nineteenth-century  critics  against  their  correctness,  or  in  the  minds 
of  Churchmen  accustomed  to  defer  to  them  in  favor  of  it ;  it  is 
certain  that  no  one  who  is  really  doubtful  about  the  truth  of  Chris¬ 
tianity,  will  be  called  upon  to  accept  it  in  deference  to  the  mere 
authority  of  the  Councils.  However  much  more  they  may  be  to 
ourselves,  to  such  a  one  as  this  they  must  stand  at  least  as  witnesses 
of  what  the  consciousness  of  the  Christian  community  set  its  seal 
to,  in  the  way  of  interpretation  of  its  own  original  deposit  of  belief. 
We  do  not  much  care  to  argue  whether  they  belonged  to  an  age  of 
criticism  or  not.  Yet  we  must  needs  be  ready  to  listen  to  any  one 
who  can  prove  that  their  determinations  were  wrong.  Councils, 
we  admit,  and  Creeds,  cannot  go  behind,  but  must  wholly  rest  upon 
the  history  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  If  any  one  could  seriously 
convict  the  Creeds  of  being  unscriptural,  we  must  listen  to  him  and 
bow,  —  as  scientific  men  would  have  to  bow  to  any  one  who  really 
could  prove  the  fundamental  propositions  of  their  science  to  be 
wrong.  But  meanwhile,  so  complete  is  the  historical  acceptance  of 
the  Creeds,  and  their  consecration  in  the  consciousness  of  the 
Church ;  that  there  is  at  least  as  clear  a  presumption  that  we  are 
uncatholic  in  differing  from  them,  as  there  would  be  that  we  were 
unscientific  if  we  dissented  from  the  most  universally  accepted 
faiths  of  science. 

Now  even  this,  the  most  commonplace  statement  of  the  growth 
of  Christian  definitions,  will  serve  to  mark  what  the  nature  of 
dogma  is.  So  far  from  faith  without  it  being  a  thing  more  spiritual 
or  pure,  faith  without  it  is  a  thing  irrational.  Faith  in  what?  I 
cannot  have  faith  without  an  object.  Faith  in  Jesus  Christ?  But 
who  is  Jesus  Christ?  Is  He  a  dead  man?  Is  He,  as  a  dead 
man,  no  longer  in  any  existence?  Or  am  I,  at  least,  necessarily 
ignorant  as  to  whether  He  and  other  dead  men  have  any  existence, 
actual  or  probable?  Or  is  He  a  man  indeed,  —  no  more ;  and 
dead  indeed  ;  but,  as  other  good  men,  alive  after  death  somehow 
in  the  blessedness  of  God?  And  what  then  did  His  life  mean?  or 
His  strange  deliberate  dying?  or  what  connection  have  they  of 
meaning  or  power  with  me  ?  And  this  God  that  you  speak  of ; 
do  I  know  anything  of  Him?  or  what?  or  how?  Or  again,  is  Jesus 
Himself  the  living  God?  And  are  the  things  true  which  are 
handed  down  to  me  in  the  Church  as  taught  by  Himself  about  the 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  203 

relations  of  God  ?  Is  He  my  living  Master  ;  my  very  Redeemer 
by  the  Cross ;  my  eternal  Judge?  and  where  and  how  have  I  con¬ 
tact  in  life  or  soul  with  the  benefits  of  His  Cross,  or  the  power 
of  His  help  ?  If  indeed  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  Him,  and  no 
interest  in  His  history,  it  is  possible  for  me  to  go  on  without  caring 
to  answer  such  questions.  But  faith  in  Him  can  have  no  meaning 
while  these  are  ignored.  The  question  whether  He  is  or  is  not 
God,  is  one  which  cannot  but  be  asked  and  answered. 

And  either  answer  to  the  question  is  alike  dogmatic.  The  Arian 
is  no  less  dogmatic  than  the  Catholic.  A  dogmatic  faith  is  only  a 
definite  faith ;  and  that  upon  questions  upon  which  it  has  become 
irrational  to  remain  indefinite,  after  I  have  once  been  brought  to  a 
certain  point  of  acquaintance  with  them.  The  question  between 
the  Catholic  and  the  Arian  is,  not  whose  doctrine  evades  definite¬ 
ness  of  determination,  but  whose  dogma  is  in  accord  with  the 
truth  and  its  evidence.  The  negative  answer  to  the  question  pro¬ 
posed  would  only  be  unjudicial,  not  undogmatic.  Meanwhile  the 
affirmative  answer  would  be  so  complete  a  concession  of  the  whole 
position,  that  if  it  has  once  been  made,  as  much  has  really  been 
admitted,  so  far  as  any  battle  about  dogma  goes,  as  if  the  whole 
formal  statement  of  the  Athanasian  Creed  had  been  expressly,  as 
it  will  have  been  implicitly,  included.  There  is  nothing,  then, 
really  to  fight  against  in  these  words,  ‘  The  right  faith  is,  that  we 
believe  and  confess  that  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  is 
God  and  Man  ;  God,  of  the  substance  of  the  Father,  begotten  be¬ 
fore  the  worlds  :  and  Man,  of  the  substance  of  His  mother,  born  in 
the  world  ;  perfect  God,  and  perfect  Man  :  of  a  reasonable  soul  and 
human  flesh  subsisting  ;  equal  to  the  Father,  as  touching  His  God¬ 
head  ;  and  inferior  to  the  Father,  as  touching  His  Manhood.  Who 
although  He  be  God  and  Man  :  yet  He  is  not  two,  but  one  Christ ; 
One ;  not  by  conversion  of  the  Godhead  into  flesh ;  but  by  tak¬ 
ing  of  the  Manhood  into  God  ;  One  altogether ;  not  by  confusion 
of  substance,  but  by  unity  of  Person.’ 

Another  thing  which  perhaps  the  same  commonplace  statement 
may  illustrate  as  to  the  character  of  Christian  dogma,  is  its  large¬ 
ness  and  equity.  It  is  harmony  ;  it  is  proportion  ;  it  is  the  protest 
of  balanced  completeness  against  all  that  partiality,  which,  by  exag¬ 
gerating  something  that  is  true,  distorts  the  proportion  and  simpli¬ 
city  of  truth.  Every  several  form  of  error  — we  admit  it  willingly 
—  grew  out  of,  and  represented,  a  truth.  Catholic  doctrine  alone 
preserves  the  proportion  of  truth.  To  work  and  to  think  within 
the  lines  of  dogmatic  faith,  is  to  work  and  to  think  upon  the  true 
and  harmonious  conception  of  the  Person  of  Jesus  Christ  —  ‘  Quern 


204 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

nosse  vivere,  Cui  servire  regnare.’  In  this  knowledge  certainly 
there  is  no  limitedness,  and  in  this  subordination  no  slavery. 

The  meaning  of  Christian  dogma,  then,  so  far  as  we  have  at 
present  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  is  simply  this.  It  is  the  self- 
realizing  of  the  consciousness  of  the  Christian  community  in  respect 
of  the  answer  to  be  given  to  that  one  great  question,  fundamental 
and  inevitable,  with  which  all  in  all  times  who  would  approach 
Christ  must  be  met,  —  *  Whom  say  ye  that  lam?’ 

But,  it  will  be  felt,  it  is  all  very  well  to  insist  so  much  upon  this 
one  point,  which  it  is  comparatively  easy  to  represent  as  the  neces¬ 
sary  answer  of  a  truthful  conscience  to  a  question  which  is  forced 
upon  it  by  the  plainest  evidence  ;  but  are  there  not  a  great  many 
Christian  doctrines  besides  ?  What  of  the  rest  of  them,  —  ‘  all  the 
Articles  of  the  Christian  faith,’  as  the  Catechism  says?  I  have  ven¬ 
tured  to  speak  at  length  upon  this  one,  not  because  it  is  easier  to 
handle  conveniently  than  the  others,  but  because  it  directly  carries, 
if  it  does  not  contain,  everything.  Jt  is  not  only  that  this  is  in  it¬ 
self  so  tremendous  a  dogma,  that  no  one  who  affirms  this  can  pos¬ 
sibly  quarrel  any  longer  with  the  principle  of  dogmatic  definition, 
but  that  this  so  inevitably  involves  all  the  other  propositions  of  the 
Creed,  that  no  one,  whose  conscience  has  accepted  this,  will  find 
it  easy  to  separate  between  it  and  the  whole  Christian  faith. 

The  Christian  Creed  consists  of  three  parts  only ;  and  all  three 
are  4  belief  in  God.’  ‘  I  believe  in  God  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 
Holy  Ghost  ’  is,  in  brief,  the  whole  Christian  Creed.  Its  shortest 
expression  is  in  three  words  (which  three  words  are  but  one), 
4  Holy,  Holy,  Holy.’  The  definitions  of  the  Apostles’,  of  the 
Nicene,  and  of  the  Athanasian  Creeds,  none  of  them  really  travel 
outside  of  this.  Take,  for  example,  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Trin¬ 
ity.  Intellectually  it  is,  of  course,  antecedent  to  the  doctrine  of 
the  Incarnation  and  the  Atonement.  But  it  will  be  observed  that 
it  is  made  known  to  us  not  antecedently,  but  as  a  consequence  of  our 
previous  conviction  of  the  Incarnation.  Moreover,  when  it  is  made 
known  it  is  made  known  rather  incidentally  than  directly.  Even 
though  it  is,  when  revealed  and  apprehended,  the  inclusive  sum  of 
our  faith,  yet  there  is,  in  the  revelation,  no  formal  unfolding  of  it,  as 
of  a  mysterious  truth  set  to  challenge  our  express  contemplation  and 
worship.  There  is  nothing  here  to  be  found  in  the  least  correspond¬ 
ing  with  the  explicit  challenge, 4  Whom  say  ye  that  I  am  ?  ’  or  4  On  this 
rock  will  I  build  My  Church  ;  ’  but  rather  indirectly,  so  far  as  our 
contemplation  of  the  Incarnation,  and  its  abiding  consequences, 
requires  for  its  own  necessary  interpretation  to  our  understanding, 
that  we  should  have  some  insight  into  the  mystery  of  the  distinction 


Vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  205 


of  Persons  in  the  Godhead,  so  far,  and  in  reference  to  that  purpose, 
the  mystery  of  the  Holy  Trinity  grows  gradually  into  clearness  of 
revelation  to  our  consciousness,  it  is  clear  that  any  distinctness 
of  conception  whatever  as  to  the  meaning  of  Incarnation  would 
be  impossible,  without  some  revelation  of  mutual  relations  between 
the  Sender  and  the  Sent,  the  Immutable  and  the  Incarnate,  the 
Father  and  the  Son.  If  it  is  less  clear  from  the  first,  it  is  surely 
not  less  certain,  that  any  conception  we  may  have  of  the  relation  so 
revealed  between  the  Father  and  the  Son,  would  be  fainter  by  far, 
and  less  intelligible  than  it  is,  if  it  were  not  for  that  which  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  has  told  us  as  to  the  office  and  nature  of  the  Holy 
Spirit ;  if  with  our  growing  conception  of  distinctness  and  relation 
as  between  the  Sender  and  the  Sent,  we  had  not  also  some  added 
conception  of  that  Blessed  Spirit  of  Holiness,  Who,  emanating 
from  both,  is  the  Spirit  of  both  alike,  and  is  thereby  also  the  very 
bond  of  perfectness  of  Love  whereby  both  are  united  in  One  ;  and 
whereby,  further,  all  spirits  in  whom  God’s  presence  dwells,  are 
united,  so  far,  in  a  real  oneness  of  spirit  with  one  another  and  with 
God.  x4nd  it  is  quite  certain,  that  whether  we  seem  to  any  one  to 
be  right  or  no  in  treating  this  revelation  of  the  Holy  Ghost  as  a 
necessary,  if  incidental,  part  of  what  He  had  need  to  be  taught  of 
the  revelation  of  the  Father  and  the  Son,  in  order  to  make  Incar¬ 
nation  properly  intelligible ;  it  is  altogether  essential  for  that  other 
purpose,  in  connection  with  which  the  revelation  is  more  immedi¬ 
ately  made,  that  is,  for  any  understanding  on  our  part  of  the  abiding 
work  of  God  in  His  Church,  after  the  Resurrection  and  Ascension. 

‘  The  holy  Catholic  Church,  the  Communion  of  Saints,  the  For¬ 
giveness  of  sins,  the  Resurrection  of  the  body,  and  the  life  everlast¬ 
ing  ;  ’  these  are  not  miscellaneous  items  thrown  in  at  the  end  of  the 
Creed  after  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Trinity  is  finished,  but  they 
are  essential  parts  of  the  understanding  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy 
Ghost :  and  on  the  other  hand,  without  the  revelation  of  the  Per¬ 
son  and  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  these  doctrines,  practical  though 
they  be,  and  vital  for  practice,  —  no  less  indeed  than  the  very 
essence  and  meaning  of  the  work  of  the  Incarnation  from  the 
day  of  Ascension  forwards,  that  is  to  say  the  whole  historical  effect 
and  fruit  of  the  Incarnation,  —  would  be  evacuated  of  all  living 
meaning,  and  would  become  for  us  only  the  empty  phrases  of  a 
far-away  baseless  yearning,  which  even  now  (apart  from  the  life  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  informing  us)  they  are  ever  too  ready  to  become. 

It  is  hoped  that  even  such  brief  statements  may  at  least  serve 
to  indicate  how  it  is  true  that  the  whole  of  our  Christian  creed, 
even  those  parts  which  seem  most  separable  from  it,  or  ante- 


20 6  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

cedent  to  it,  are  for  us  really  contained  in  the  one  crucial  doc¬ 
trine  of  the  Incarnation,  that  is,  of  the  eternal  Godhead  of  the  Man 
Christ  Jesus.  And  this  will  compel  us  once  more  to  recognize 
the  simplicity  of  Christian  dogma.  It  does  not  mean  a  compli¬ 
cated  system  of  arbitrary  definitions  upon  a  great  variety  of  sub¬ 
jects  of  religious  speculation,  formulated  one  after  another  by 
human  ingenuity,  and  imposed  by  human  despotism  upon  the 
consciences  of  the  unthinking  or  the  submissive ;  it  means  rather 
the  simple  expression  (guarded  according  to  experience  of  mis¬ 
conception)  of  the  fundamental  fact  of  the  Incarnation,  together 
with  such  revelation  as  to  the  relations  of  the  Divine  Being,  and 
the  wonder  of  His  work  amongst  men,  as  is  clearly  lit  up  by  the 
event  of  the  Incarnation  itself,  and  is  required  for  such  apprehen¬ 
sion  of  the  meaning  and  effects  of  the  Incarnation  as  Jesus  Christ 
held  to  be  meet  and  necessary  for  us. 

And  so  it  is  with  all  parts  of  Christian  doctrine.  If  they  would 
be  found  to  be  necessarily  contained  in  a  full  unfolding  of  the 
great  truth  which  the  Creed  so  briefly  and  simply  declares,  then 
they  really  are  parts  of  our  faith,  because  they  are  really  involved 
in  the  understanding  of  the  threefold  revelation  to  man  of  the 
Name  of  God,  which  is  the  sum  total  of  our  faith.  But  if  the 
Name  of  our  God  does  not  contain  them,  they  are  not  in  our  creed 
or  our  faith.  Is  there,  for  example,  a  visible  Church?  Is  there 
an  Apostolic  Ministry?  The  answer  depends  on  the  inquiry  as  to 
what  is  revealed,  first  in  Scripture,  and  then  in  history,  as  to  the 
method  of  the  working  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ  in  the  world.  Did 
the  Old  Testament  prefigure,  in  action  and  in  utterance,  did  the 
Incarnation  require,  did  the  Gospels  interpret  or  comment  upon, 
did  the  Apostles  organize  or  govern,  any  definitely  articulated 
society,  with  ceremonies  or  officers,  rules  or  discipline,  of  its  own? 
Was  this  the  method  of  association  and  membership,  or  was  some 
other,  the  mode  of  the  working  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Christ  among 
men?  Is  the  work  of  Christ,  in  redeeming  and  reconciling  to 
God,  is  His  present  relation  to  the  world,  properly  intelligible,  or 
not, — apart  from  the  Church?  Is  the  ministry  of  the  Church, 
or  are  the  sacraments  of  the  Church,  to  those  who  thoughtfully 
read  Scripture  and  history,  a  demonstrable  part  or  normal  con¬ 
dition  of  the  working  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the  Church?  If  so, 
belief  in  them  is  contained  in  my  words,  not  only  when  I  say,  4 1 
believe  in  the  holy  Catholic  Church,’  but  also,  though  less  plainly, 
when  I  say,  4 1  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost.’  But  if  not,  it  is  not 
contained.  If  they  are  really  separable  from  the  Catholic  Church, 
truly  understood,  or  from  the  understanding  of  the  Holy  Spirit 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  207 

and  His  work,  then  they  are  no  part  of  what  any  Christian  need 
believe.  But  so  far  as  the  holy  Catholic  Church,  so  far  as  the 
orderly,  covenanted  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  world,  involves 
and  contains  the  idea  of  the  ministry  or  the  sacraments,  so  far 
every  Christian  will  know,  just  in  proportion  as  he  knows  the  true 
meaning  of  his  creed,  that  he  is  bound  to  them.  It  is  no  part 
of  my  business  to  pursue  the  question  of  the  sacraments  or  the 
ministry  further  here. 

It  may  be  observed,  perhaps,  that  the  Creed  contains  no  propo¬ 
sition  expressly  about  ourselves,  —  about  the  fall,  for  instance,  or 
about  sin.  Yet  in  and  from  the  first  word  of  the  Creed,  I  of  course 
am  present  there  ;  and  as  to  formal  propositions  about  myself,  it 
may  be  that  they  are  not  so  much  articles  of  belief  as  rather  condi¬ 
tions  of  mind  antecedent  to  belief,  conditions  of  self-consciousness 
to  which  belief  fits  and  responds,  and  without  which  the  Creed  itself 
would  be  unintelligible.  But  what  is  thus  necessarily  implied  and 
involved  in  the  terms  of  the  Creed  is,  after  all,  substantially  con¬ 
tained  in  that  Creed  to  which  it  is  a  condition  of  intelligibleness. 
Of  course  my  creed  necessarily  presupposes  myself.  I  cannot  be¬ 
lieve  at  all  except  I  am  and  have  a  certain  history  and  faculties.  I 
cannot  believe  in  God  as  Father,  as  Almighty,  as  Creator,  without 
implying  and  including  within  that  belief  the  fundamental  facts  of 
my  nature  and  relation  to  Him.  I  cannot  believe  in  the  Incarna¬ 
tion  and  the  Redemption,  their  meaning  or  their  consequences,  I 
cannot  believe  in  the  Holy  Spirit,  or  have  any  intelligent  apprehen¬ 
sion  of  His  working,  except  there  be  implied,  as  conditions  of  my 
consciousness  necessary  to  that  intelligence,  some  apprehension  of 
that  which  is  meant  by  the  fall,  some  inalienable  sense  of  evil, 
of  sin,  of  the  banishment  from  God  which  is  the  fruit  of  sin,  of 
the  inherent  contradiction  to  my  nature,  the  unnatural  penalty  and 
horror,  which  the  banishment  of  sin  involves.  So  probation,  judg¬ 
ment,  heaven,  hell,  are  beliefs  which  grow  by  inevitable  conse¬ 
quence  out  of  the  apprehension,  once  grasped,  of  the  nature  and 
distinction  of  good  and  evil ;  they  are  necessary  corollaries  from 
the  full  perception  of  the  eternal  rightness  of  right,  the  eternal 
wrongness  of  wrong,  the  eternal  separation  and  contrast  between 
right  and  wrong ;  in  a  word,  from  belief  in  God  on  the  part  of  man. 

Perhaps  this  illustration  may  serve  to  show  how  much  that  is  not 
obvious  in  the  letter  may  nevertheless  be  really  contained  in  man’s 
utterance  of  the  Name  of  God. 

III.  But  while  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  which  her  Creeds 
express  are  thus  as  simple  as  they  are  profound,  it  is  no  doubt  true 


208 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


that  there  has  grown  up  round  about  them  a  considerable  body  of 
theological  teaching,  more  or  less  complicated,  which  is  really  of 
the  nature  of  comment  upon  them,  or  explication  of  their  nature 
and  meaning.  When  we  speak  of  the  dogmas  of  Christianity  it  is 
right  to  distinguish,  with  the  clearest  possible  line  of  demarcation, 
between  all  this  mass  of  explanatory  teaching  (mole  or  less  author¬ 
itative  as  it  may  from  time  to  time  appear  to  be)  and  the  central 
truths  themselves,  which  are  our  real  certainties.  The  doctrine 
itself  is  one  thing,  the  theories  explicative  of  the  doctrine  are 
another.  They  may  be  of  the  highest  value  in  their  own  time  and 
place  ;  but  they  are  not  the  immutable  principles  of  Church  truth. 
To  say  this  is  not  really  to  depreciate  the  work  of  theological 
writers  and  teachers  of  different  ages ;  but  it  is  to  assign  to  their 
work  its  true  position.  The  current  mode  of  explaining  a  doctrine 
in  one  age,  and  bringing  it  home  by  illustrations  to  the  imagination 
of  men,  may  be  discredited  and  superseded  in  another.  When 
the  current  mode  of  statement  or  illustration  begins  to  be  more  or 
less  discredited,  the  minds  of  quiet  people  are  apt  to  be  distressed. 
This  is  because  very  few  of  us  can  distinguish  between  the  truths 
themselves  which  we  hold  and  the  (often  mistaken)  modes  of  expres¬ 
sion  by  which  we  seem  to  explain  our  truths  to  ourselves.  Even 
when  our  explanation  is  substantially  true,  the  doctrine  is  still  a  dif¬ 
ferent  thing  from  our  explanation  of  it ;  and  if  any  imperfection  is 
detected  in  our  explanation  of  it,  it  is  not  truth  which  suffers ;  it 
is  only  that  truth  is  being  distinguished  from  our  imperfect  and 
unconscious  glosses ;  and  thereby  in  the  end  the  truth  can  only  be 
served.  Perhaps  no  illustration  of  this  can  be  more  convincing 
than  that  which  the  history  of  the  doctrine  of  Atonement  supplies. 
That  Christ  died  upon  the  cross  for  us,  that  He  offered  Himself  as 
a  sacrifice,  and  that  we  are  redeemed  through  His  blood,  this 
is  a  belief  fundamental  to  Christianity ;  nor  has  the  Church  ever 
wavered  for  an  instant  in  her  strong  faith  in  this.  But  when  we  go 
further,  and  come  to  the  different  illustrations  that  have  been 
given  to  make  the  precise  nature  of  Atonement  clear  to  human 
logic,  when  in  fact  we  enter  upon  the  domain  of  explicative  theo¬ 
ries,  we  have  not  only  left  the  sure  ground  of  the  Creeds,  and 
embarked  upon  views  which  may  or  may  not  be  correct,  but  we 
find  as  a  fact  that  the  modes  of  thought  which  seemed  adequately 
to  explain  the  doctrine  to  the  conscience  of  some  ages  have  not 
only  failed  to  satisfy,  but  have  actually  shocked  and  offended, 
others.  The  teaching  that  God  was  angry,  but  that  Jesus,  as  a 
result  of  gentler  mercy,  and  through  His  innocent  blood,  appeased, 
by  satisfying,  the  wrath  of  the  Father,  and  so  reconciled  God  to 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  209 

us ;  the  teaching  that  Satan  had  obtained  a  right  over  man,  but 
that  Jesus,  by  giving  up  Himself,  paid  a  splendid  ransom  into  the 
hands  of  Satan ;  the  teaching  that  a  debt  was  due  from  humanity 
to  God,  and  that  Jesus,  clothed  as  man,  alone  could  deliver  man 
by  discharging  God’s  debt.  These  —  be  they  popular  blunder- 
ings  or  genuine  efforts  of  Theology  —  may,  in  their  times,  have 
both  helped  and  wounded  consciences  ;  but  whether  they  be  to  us 
as  helps  or  hindrances,  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  we 
should  discriminate  them,  or  others  which  may  have  succeeded  to 
them  as  theories  explanatory  of  the  Atonement  from  our  cardinal 
belief  in  the  Atonement  itself.  We  may  have  rightly  seen  what  is 
vicious  in  these  statements,  and  we  may  have  greatly  improved 
upon  them,  but  however  much  more  helpful  our  modes  of  exposi¬ 
tion  may  prove  themselves  to  our  own  minds  or  those  of  our 
hearers,  we  may  only  be  repeating  the  old  error,  and  leading  the 
way  to  fresh  distresses  in  the  future,  if  we  confound  our  mode  of 
explanatory  comment  with  the  truth  of  the  doctrine  itself,  and 
claim  that  the  mysterious  fact  of  the  Atonement  means  exactly 
that  which  is  our  own  best  approach  to  a  statement,  in  illustrative 
words,  of  what  it  expresses  to  us. 

But  it  may  be  asked,  Are  you  not  saying  too  much  ?  Does  not 
this  seem  to  mean  that  the  doctrines  themselves  are  little  better 
than  unintelligible  symbols,  which  need  not  indeed  be  changed 
for  the  simple  reason  that  they  can  be  made  to  mean  whatever  is 
necessarv  to  suit  the  times?  No,  the  truth  of  them  does  not 
change  ;  and  even  the  changeful  modes  of  presenting  them  are  less 
changeful,  after  all,  than  they  seem.  They  cannot  indefinitely  vary  ; 
there  is  one  thing  which  unites  them  all,  and  that  is  the  truth  itself 
which  lies  behind  them  all.  The  Atonement  is  a  fact,  whether  I 
can  adequately  expound  it  or  no.  The  Atonement  is  a  fact,  which 
my  attempted  expositions  do  indeed  represent,  more  or  less  cor¬ 
rectly,  more  or  less  clumsily,  even  when  I  seem  most  to  have  failed. 
Much  as  they  may  seem  to  differ,  and  inconsistent  as  they  may  appear 
with  each  other,  yet  not  one  of  them  really  represents  untruth,  but 
truth.  Imperfect  images  they  may  be,  and  in  respect  of  their 
imperfections,  diverse  and  distorting  ;  yet  there  is  not  one  of  the 
theories  of  Atonement  referred  to  above  —  not  even  such  as  are 
now  seen  to  contain  most  error  —  which  did  not,  as  seriously  held, 
represent  and  convey  some  real  image  of  the  truth.  It  may  be 
that  the  truth  which  they  represented  was  conveyed  in  an  inexact 
way  ;  and  that  afterwards,  when  attention  was  concentrated  on  the 
points  of  inexactness,  the  statement  became,  and  would  have 
become,  more  and  more  misleading ;  it  was  no  longer  then  a 

H 


210 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


possible  vehicle  of  truth ;  but  what  it  had  really  conveyed  to  those 
to  whom  it  was  living,  was  areal  soul-enlightening  image  of  the  truth 
of  the  Atonement.  It  was  an  imperfect  image  ;  it  was  even  in  part 
a  distorted  image,  —  as  everything  that  I  see  through  my  window 
is  in  part  distorted.  But  it  was  a  real  image  of  the  real  truth  none 
the  less. 

Local  and  popular  modes  of  exposition  then  are  often  as  the 
medium  through  which  dogmatic  truth  is  seen  and  apprehended, — 
not  always,  certainly,  without  distortion.  But  the  more  catholic 
the  truth,  the  more  it  retains  its  identity  of  form,  however  remote 
from  each  other,  in  place  or  time,  the  diverse  types  of  mind  which 
view  and  teach  it,  so  much  the  purer  must  it  be  from  accidental  or 
temporary  conditionings ;  so  much  the  nearer,  in  rank,  to  a  funda¬ 
mental  doctrine  of  the  Catholic  Church. 

We  do  not,  of  course,  distinguish  Catholic  dogma  from  theo¬ 
logical  literature,  as  though  the  one  were  bare  facts,  and  the 
other  all  explanations  of  the  facts.  But  we  may  rightly  confine  the 
use  of  the  word  ‘dogma’  to  the  fundamental  facts,  together  with 
such  explanation  of  them  as  the  Church  has  agreed,  by  universal 
instinct,  or  by  dogmatic  decree  indorsed  through  ecumenical  accep¬ 
tance,  to  be  essential  to  a  reasonable  apprehension  of  the  facts. 

It  is  the  more  important  to  guard  with  unfaltering  clearness  this 
distinction  between  dogma  on  the  one  hand,  and  theological  lit¬ 
erature  on  the  other,  because  it  is,  no  doubt,  in  the  sphere  of 
explanatory  theories  and  expressions  that  most  of  those  contro¬ 
versies  find  their  place  which  distress  quiet  minds,  and  rouse  hot 
battles  of  orthodoxy  between  sincere  Christian  combatants.  If  it 
could  be  recognized  at  the  time  how  far  the  apparent  innovators  of 
successive  generations  were  really  questioning,  not  the  doctrines 
themselves,  but  certain  traditional  modes  of  thought  and  teaching 
which  have  wrongly  adhered  to  the  doctrines,  there  would  be  fewer 
accusations  of  heterodoxy,  and  less  distress  and  perplexity  amongst 
the  orthodox.  But  it  is  natural  enough  that  this  should  not  be 
perceived  by  the  defenders,  when  the  innovators  themselves  are  so 
often  both  blind  and  indifferent  to  it.  And  it  is  just  herein  that  the 
different  innovators  are  apt  to  make  themselves  indefensible.  Too 
often  they  think  that  they  are  making  real  advance  upon  the  doc¬ 
trines  of  the  Church  and  her  Creeds,  and  they  are  elated,  instead  of 
being  ashamed,  at  the  thought.  They  make  light  of  loyalty,  they 
despise  the  birthright  of  their  Churchmanship,  and  find  their  own 
self-exaltation  in  the  very  consciousness  of  offending  their  brethren. 
This,  whether  done  under  provocation  or  no,  is  to  depart  from  the 
spirit  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  in  temper  and  meaning  at  least,  — 


Vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  21 1 

even  though  their  work  in  the  long  run  should  prove  (as  it  must  so 
far  as  there  is  truth  in  it)  only  to  serve  the  interest  and  work  of 
the  Church. 

It  is  easier  to  see  this  in  retrospect  than  in  struggle.  But  perhaps 
those  who  look  back  upon  the  struggles  of  the  last  generation  within 
the  Church,  will  recognize  that  the  orthodox  thought  of  the  present 
day. has  been  not  a  little  cleared  and  served,  not  merely  by  the 
i\ork  of  orthodox  defence,  but  in  no  small  part  by  the  work  of  the 
4  liberalizers  ’  also.  To  say  this,  is  by  no  means  necessarily  to  acquit 
the  liberalizers,  or  to  cast  a  slur  upon  those  who  fought  against 
them.  Such  condemnations  or  acquittals  depend  upon  other  con¬ 
siderations,  which  do  not  concern  us  here.  But  putting  wholly 
aside  as  irrelevant  all  condemnation  or  acquittal  of  individuals,  we 
may  yet  acknowledge  that  the  work  done  has  in  the  end  served  the 
cause  of  the  truth  and  the  Church.  This  is  said,  of  course,  of  its 
real  intellectual  outcome  ;  certainly  not  of  the  unsettling  of  souls  by 
the  way.  And  it  is  also  to  be  noted  that  even  when  the  fruit  of 
their  work  has  been  in  a  real  sense,  after  all,  accepted  and  incor¬ 
porated,  it  is  hardly  ever  in  the  sense,  and  never  quite  with  the 
results,  which  they,  so  far  as  they  had  allowed  themselves  to  be 
malcontents,  had  supposed.  But  if  whatever  is  good  and  true  in 
their  work  becomes,  after  all,  an  element  in  the  consciousness  of 
the  Church,  might  not  the  work  itself  have  been  done,  all  along,  in 
perfect  Church  loyalty?  In  so  far  as  different  earnest  writers  of  a 
generation  ago,  or  of  to-day,  are  really,  whether  consciously  or  not, 
making  a  contribution  to  one  of  the  great  theological  tasks  of  our 
time,  in  so  far  (that  is)  as  they  are  helping  towards  the  correction 
of  erroneous  fancies  of  popular  theology,  —  helping,  for  instance, 
to  modify  that  superstitious  over-statement  about  ‘justification’ 
which  would  really  leave  no  meaning  in  ‘  righteousness  ;  ’  or  to 
limit  the  grossness  of  the  theory  often  represented  by  the  word 
‘  imputation  ;  ’  or  to  rebuke  the  nervous  selfishness  of  religionists 
whose  one  idea  of  the  meaning  of  religion  was  ‘  to  be  saved  ;  ’  or 
to  qualify  the  materialism  or  superstition  of  ignorant  sacramentalists  ; 
or  to  banish  dogmatic  realisms  about  hell,  or  explications  of  atone¬ 
ment  which  malign  God’s  Fatherhood ;  or  the  freezing  chill  and 
paralysis  of  all  life  supposed  before  now  to  be  necessarily  involved 
in  the  Apostolic  words  ‘  predestination  ’  and  ‘  election  ;  ’  so  far  they 
are  really,  though  it  may  be  from  the  outside  and  very  indirectly, 
doing  the  work  of  the  Church.  But  the  pity  of  it  is  that  the  men 
who  do  this  kind  of  service  are  so  apt  to  spoil  it,  by  overvaluing 
themselves  and  forgetting  the  loveliness  and  the  power  of  perfect 
subordination  to  the  Church.  We  may  own  that  Church  people 


212 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


and  Church  rulers  have  too  often  been  the  stumblingblock.  It  is 
they  who  again  and  again  have  seemed  to  fight  against  everything, 
and  by  intellectual  apathy,  and  stern  moral  proscription  of  every 
form  of  mental  difficulty  (wherein  oftentimes  are  the  birth-throes 
of  enlightenment)  to  drive  living  and  growing  intelligence  out  of  the 
Church.  It  is  true  that  the  greatest  of  Churchmen  would,  if  the 
badge  of  their  work  were  submissiveness,  have  sometimes  to  wait 
a  while,  and  bear  delay,  and  wrong  from  inferior  minds,  with  the 
patience  of  humility.  Yes  ;  but  that  work  of  theirs,  if  it  once  were 
stamped  with  this  seal  of  patient  submissiveness,  would  be  a  glory 
to  the  Church  forever,  like  the  work  of  her  quiet  confessors,  the 
work  of  a  Scupoli,  a  Ken,  or  a  Fenelon;  instead  of  being,  as  it 
more  often  seems  to  be,  a  great  offending  and  perplexing  of 
thousands  of  the  very  consciences  which  deserve  to  be  treated  most 
tenderly,  and  therefore  also  a  wrong  and  a  loss  to  the  conscience 
and  character  of  the  writer. 

Are  statements  like  these  a  concession  to  the  anti-dogmatist  ? 
If  so,  they  are  one  to  which,  in  the  name  of  truth,  he  is  heartily 
welcome.  And  perhaps  under  the  same  high  sanction  we  may 
add  what  will  look,  to  some  minds,  like  another.  We  claimed, 
some  time  since,  that  the  Creed  must  be,  to  Christians,  rather  a 
complete  and  conclusive  than  a  partial  or  a  tentative  statement  of 
truth.  Yet  there  is  one  sense  in  which  we  may  own  that  even  the 
definitions  of  the  Creeds  may  themselves  be  called  relative  and 
temporary.  For  we  must  not  claim  for  phrases  of  earthly  coinage 
a  more  than  earthly  and  relative  completeness.  The  Creeds  are 
temporary  in  that  they  are  a  complete  and  sufficient  statement  of 
truth  only  for  time.  And  therefore  they  are  only  quite  perfectly 
adequate  to  express  those  truths  which  have  their  place  in  time. 
But  we,  in  respect  of  truths  which  transcend  time,  if  we  cannot  as 
yet  be  freed  from  the  trammels  and  limits  of  earthly  thought  and 
expression,  yet  can  recognize  at  least  the  fact  that  we  are,  even  in 
our  Creeds,  still  laboring  within  those  trammels.  We  may  have 
ground  for  believing  the  Creeds  of  the  Church  to  be  the  most  per¬ 
fectly  balanced  and  harmonious  expression  of  the  truth  whereof 
our  earthly  knowledge  is,  or  will  be,  capable.  Yet  when  we  strug¬ 
gle,  as  in  the  language  of  the  Athanasian  Creed,  to  express  the  re¬ 
lations  which  have  been  exhibited  to  us  in  the  eternal  Godhead 
through  the  use  of  the  words  ‘  Person ?  and  ‘  Substance,’  or 
vTTocrraa-L^  and  ovcria ;  or  when  we  thus  profess  our  belief  in  the 
Person  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  ‘  The  Holy  Ghost  is  of  the  Father  and 
of  the  Son  :  neither  made,  nor  created,  nor  begotten,  but  proceed¬ 
ing,’  need  we  fear  to  own  that  the  instruments  which,  perforce,  we 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma,  213 


make  use  of  upon  earth,  even  in  the  Creeds  of  the  Church,  are 
necessarily  imperfect  instruments  ;  the  power  of  conception  imper¬ 
fect  ;  the  power  of  phrase  and  imagery  imperfect  also  ;  and  that 
their  sufficiency  of  truth  (though  not  their  correctness  meanwhile) 
is  so  far  temporary  that  it  is  limited  to  earth  and  to  time  ;  and  that, 
in  the  perfect  light  and  knowledge  of  the  presence  of  God,  the  per- 
fectest  knowledge  represented  by  them  will  be  superseded  and  ab¬ 
sorbed,  while  the  glosses  and  materialisms  with  which,  in  various 
ways,  we  may  have  been  unconsciously  clothing  them  to  our  own 
imaginations,  will  be  —  not  superseded  only,  but  corrected,  and  it 
may  be,  reproved  ?  Moreover,  if  the  truths  represented  in  the  Creeds 
are  wider  and  deeper  than  our  conceptions  of  them,  we  can  admit 
that  there  may  possibly  be  particulars  in  which,  even  now,  the  ex¬ 
perience  of  spiritual  life  may  deepen  and  enlarge  the  meaning  to 
us  of  our  Creeds ;  as,  for  instance,  the  words  heaven  and  hell  may 
present  to  us  ideas  differing,  in  the  direction  of  more  correctness, 
from  those  which  they  presented  to  some  of  our  forefathers.  It  is 
not  that  the  Creeds  will  be  some  day  corrected.  It  is  not  that  we 
shall  see  hereafter  how  false  they  were,  but  how  far  the  best  con¬ 
ceptions  which  they  opened  to  us,  —  the  best,  that  is,  that  our 
earthly  faculties  were  capable  of,  ■ —  lagged  in  their  clumsiness  be¬ 
hind  the  perfect  apprehension  of  the  truths  which  they  had,  never¬ 
theless,  not  untruly  represented  ;  but  which  we  then  shall  have 
power  to  see  and  know  as  they  are.  The  truth  which  is  dimly  im¬ 
aged  for  us  in  the  Creeds  will  never  belie,  but  will  infinitely  trans¬ 
cend,  what  their  words  represented  on  earth. 

But  it  will  very  naturally  be  asked  by  what  right  we  speak  thus  of 
the  Creeds.  In  the  very  moment  of  admitting,  in  one  sense,  their 
incompleteness  and  want  of  finality,  by  what  right  do  we  lay  down 
still  that  they  are  final  and  complete  to  the  end  of  time  ;  that  is, 
perhaps,  through  ages  of  human  advance,  of  which  we  may  have 
now  no  conception  at  all  ?  Such  a  question  does  not  apply  to  the 
strictly  historical  statements  which  constitute  the  foundation  of  our 
creed,  but  to  those  interpretations  of  historical  fact,  and  to  those 
assertions  about  the  Divine  Being  and  its  relations,  which  neces¬ 
sarily  transcend  time  and  experience.  And  after  all,  perhaps,  the 
answer  is  not  difficult.  We  have  to  consider,  first,  that  for  the  very 
reason  that  these  beliefs  do  absolutely  transcend  time  and  expe¬ 
rience,  therefore  no  human  development  which  belongs  merely  to 
time  and  experience  can  in  itself  displace  or  improve  upon  them  ; 
and  secondly,  that  our  knowledge  of  these  truths  is  really  derived 
from  a  Divine  revelation  which  took  place,  as  we  believe,  within 
time  and  experience.  We  may  say,  indeed,  that  the  statements  of 


214 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


this  Divine  revelation  are  corroborated  to  us  by  such  elements  of 
thought  as  our  reason  (which  we  believe  to  be  also  in  its  reality 
Divine)  is  able  to  supply.  It  remains,  however,  that  they  can  only 
really  be  proved  or  disproved  by  arguments  which  go  to  prove  or 
disprove  the  truth  of  the  historical  Incarnation,  and  of  the  revela¬ 
tions  which  it  contains. 

It  follows  from  hence  that  we  have  a  valid  right  to  hold  them 
not  only  true,  but  final  in  their  statement  of  truth  for  this  present 
world,  exactly  so  far  as  we  have  a  right  to  believe  that  our  histori¬ 
cal  revelation  is,  for  time,  a  final  one.  Should  there,  indeed,  be 
a  wholly  fresh  revelation,  the  amount  of  truth  hitherto  revealed 
might  be  superseded  ;  but  nothing  short  of  a  revelation  can  super¬ 
sede  it.  The  idea  that  any  advance  of  human  reason  could  be  in¬ 
consistent  with  it,  involves  for  the  Christian  who  believes  human 
reason  to  be  divinely  reflected  and  divinely  implanted,  nothing  less 
than  an  unthinkable  contradiction.  We  may  therefore  believe  it 
in  any  case  to  be  final  till  the  coming  of  a  further  revelation ;  and 
so  far  as  there  is  anything  in  the  truth  already  revealed  to  us, 
which  may  warrant  us  in  feeling  confident  that  there  is  no  fresh 
revelation  in  store,  within  the  limits  of  time,  by  which  the  revelation 
of  Jesus  Christ  will  be  superseded,  just  so  far  and  no  further  are 
we  justified  in  claiming  for  those  clauses  in  the  Creed,  whose  sub¬ 
ject-matter  transcends  time  and  experience,  that  they  are  the  com- 
pletest  expressions  of  their  truths  which  can  be  reached  in  time. 

IV.  It  may  perhaps  be  a  matter  of  prudence  to  refer  for  a 
moment  to  what  are  called  the  4  damnatory  clauses  ’  of  the  Atha- 
nasian  Creed ;  though  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  do  so  for  the 
purpose  of  any  positive  statement  or  explanation  of  Christian  doc¬ 
trine.  These  clauses,  however,  to  the  positive  statement  add  a 
negative.  It  is  easy  to  misunderstand  them,  and  even,  by  misrep¬ 
resenting,  to  make  them  appear  grotesque.  But  if  the  question  be 
as  to  what  they  really  mean,  they  are,  after  all,  to  the  Christian,  an 
obvious  and  necessary  corollary  of  the  Creed  which  is  his  life. 
There  is  but  One  God,  and  One  Heaven,  and  One  Salvation  ;  not  a 
choice  of  alternative  salvations,  or  heavens,  or  gods.  There  is  One 
Incarnation,  One  Cross,  One  Divine  restoring  and  exalting  of  hu¬ 
manity.  There  is  One  Spirit  of  God,  One  Church,  —  the  fabric  and 
the  method  of  the  working  of  the  Spirit,  —  One  Spiritual  Covenant 
with  man.  Man  must  have  part  in  this  One,  or  he  has  part  in  none, 
for  there  is  no  other.  Man  must  have  knowledge  of  this  One,  belief 
in  this  One  ;  or  there  is  none  for  him  to  believe  in  or  to  know.  God’s 
covenant  is  with  His  Church  on  earth  ;  and  the  statements  of  the 
Creed  are  the  representation  in  words  of  that  knowledge  of  the 


Vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  215 

truth  which  the  Church  possesses,  the  possession  of  which  is  her 
life.  The  Athanasian  Creed  is  not  addressed  to  outsiders,  but 
to  those  who  are  within  the  Church.  Tor  encouragement,  or  (if 
necessary)  for  warning,  it  insists  to  them  on  the  uniqueness  of 
their  faith.  To  have  hold  on  God  is  to  have  hold  on  Life.  To 
revolt  from  God  is  to  revolt  from  Life.  This  is  so,  to  those  who 
have  or  ought  to  have  learned  that  it  is  so,  both  in  fact  and  in 
thought.  Thus,  in  fact,  to  drop  out  of  communion  with  the  Incar¬ 
nation  of  Christ  is  to  drop  out  of  communion  with  the  inner  reali¬ 
ties  and  possibilities  of  humanity.  But  the  mind,  and  its  convictions 
and  meanings,  cannot  wholly  be  separated  from  the  facts  of  the  life. 
There  comes,  at  least  in  most  lives,  a  time  when  the  man  s  own 
allegiance  to  the  facts  is  a  necessary  condition  of  his  identification 
with  them.  ‘  If  ye  believe  not  that  I  am  He,  ye  shall  die  in  your 
sins.’  There  comes  a  point  at  which  the  mind’s  refusal  of  the  doc¬ 
trines  of  religion  is  the  man's  revolt  from  the  facts ;  and  such  a 
revolt  is  repudiation  of  the  One  revelation  of  God,  the  One  Incar¬ 
nation,  the  One  Salvation,  the  One  Church  or  Covenant.  This 
must  be  broadly  true,  true  in  the  abstract  as  principle,  unless  truth 
and  falsehood,  right  and  wrong,  are  fundamentally  false  distinctions, 
and  every  man  is  to  be  equally  good,  and  equally  compelled  to 
heaven.  At  what  point  any  individual  person,  or  class  of  persons, 
does,  or  does  not,  in  the  sight  of  the  Judge  who  knows  the  whole 
inward  history  and  tries  the  most  secret  motive,  fall  within  the 
scope  of  this  principle  and  incur  the  final  condemnation  of  rebellion 
against  the  one  light  and  hope  of  all  humanity,  is  another  question 
altogether.  Any  such  application  of  the  principle  to  the  case  of  in¬ 
dividuals  belongs  only  to  God  the  Judge,  and  would  be  an  arrogant 
impiety  in  any  man.  Even  when  such  a  question  may  have  to 
be  determined  ecclesiasticallv,  the  ecclesiastical  condemnation  and 
sentence,  though  expressly  representing  in  shadow  the  eternal  sen¬ 
tence,  is  none  the  less  quite  distinct,  and  indeed  in  its  ultimate 
motive  even  contrasted  with  it.  But  however  unchristian  it  may 
be  to  say  that  A.  or  B.  will  perish  everlastingly,  the  principle 
nevertheless  is  true,  that  the  truth  which  the  Creed  embodies,  the 
truth  of  which  Christ’s  Incarnation  is  the  pivot  and  centre,  is  the 
only  deliverance  from  everlasting  perishing,  and  that  whole-hearted 
union  and  communion  with  this  truth  is  that  true  state  of  Church 
life  which  alone  has  the  certain  seal  of  the  covenant  of  God.  This 
broad  truth  it  is,  the  necessary  complement  of  any  holding  of  the 
Christian  creed  as  true,  which  these  clauses  affirm.  If  it  be  said, 

‘  Your  Athanasian  Creed  is  simple  and  trenchant ;  it  has  no  quali¬ 
fications  such  as  you  admit our  reply  would  be  threefold.  First, 


21 6  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

the  Creed  is  part  of  our  heritage  from  the  past,  and  its  phraseology 
is  not  our  handiwork ;  but  we  know  that  the  necessary  qualifica¬ 
tions  with  which  we  understand  its  phraseology  have  been  generally 
recognized  by  the  Church  from  which  we  inherit  it.  Secondly,  the 
Quicunqne  vult  is,  strictly,  not  so  much  a  creed  as  a  canticle ;  it 
has  never  been  used  as  a  test  of  Church  communion  ;  and  it  speaks, 
on  a  point  like  this,  as  the  Te  Deum  would  speak,  in  the  language, 
not  of  judicial  award,  but  of  devotional  loyalty.  Thirdly,  the  quali¬ 
fications  with  which  we  say  that  any  generalization  about  man’s 
responsibility  for  belief,  whether  in  this  ‘  canticle  ’  or  in  scripture, 
must  necessarily  be  understood,  are  only  such  as  all  men  apply  to 
any  similar  generalization  about  responsibility  for  conduct.  ‘If  ye 
believe  not  that  I  am  He,  ye  shall  die  in  your  sins,’  is  paralleled  by 
‘  They  which  do  such  things  shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God.’ 
We  claim  only  to  interpret  the  one  as  rationally  as  all  men  under¬ 
stand  the  other. 

It  has  seemed  to  be  desirable,  while  insisting  upon  the  claims  of 
dogma,  not  indeed  in  the  name  of  allegiance  to  imposed  authority, 
but  in  the  name  of  truth,  and  on  the  ground  of  its  simple  identity 
with  truth,  to  try  to  state,  with  the  utmost  possible  plainness,  what¬ 
ever  could  be  truly  admitted  in  the  way  of  apparent  qualification 
of  those  claims.  Truth  is  supreme  and  eternal,  and  dogma,  so  far 
as  it  coincides  with  truth,  is,  of  course,  all  that  truth  is.  For  the 
dogmatic  position  of  the  Church  and  her  Creeds,  we  claim  that  it 
is  the  true  and  simple  expression  upon  earth  of  the  highest  truth 
that  is,  or  can  be,  known.  But  dogmatic  theologians  are  not  in¬ 
fallible,  and  so  far  as  the  name  of  dogma  has  been  claimed  for  mis¬ 
taken  presumption  or  misleading  statement  of  truth,  so  far  may 
dogma  have  seemed  to  fight  against  truth.  The  words,  indeed, 
‘dogmatic’  and  ‘dogmatism’  have  acquired  a  bad  reputation. 
But  this  is  not  the  fault  of  dogma.  A  dogmatist,  in  the  invidious 
sense  of  the  word,  does  not  mean  one  who  studies  dogma,  but 
rather  one  who  foolishly  utters  what  are  not  dogmas  as  if  they  were. 
The  dogmatic  temper  is  the  temper  of  one  who  is  imperiously  con¬ 
fident  that  he  is  right  when  he  is  not.  That  is  to  say,  the  words 
dogma,  dogmatic,  dogmatize,  etc.,  are  commonly  used  of  some¬ 
thing  which  is  the  mere  abuse  and  travesty  of  their  proper  mean¬ 
ing.  It  is  hard  that  dogma  itself  should  be  prejudiced  by  this 
caricaturing  misuse  of  its  name. 

Meanwhile,  if  real  charges  be  brought  against  any  part  of  our 
dogmatic  creed,  we  are  willing  most  honestly  to  examine  into 
them.  In  so  far  as  they  are  made  against  current  suppositions, 
which  are  separable  from  our  essential  belief,  —  separable  as,  for 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  217 

example,  we  now  see  various  details  of  traditional  belief  about  the 
first  chapter  of  Genesis  to  be  separable,  —  we  join  our  critics  in 
the  examination  with  a  mind  as  open  as  they  could  desire.  And 
it  must,  in  simple  candor,  be  admitted  further,  that  upon  the 
appearance  of  any  new  form  of  thought,  Churchmen  have  not 
generally  been  quick  of  mind  to  discriminate  the  essential  from 
the  non-essential,  so  as  to  receive  at  first,  with  any  openness  of 
mind,  what  they  had  afterwards  to  admit  that  they  might  have 
received  from  the  first.  But  not  even  this  admission  must  prevent 
us  from  claiming,  that  when  that  to  which  exception  is  taken  does 
really  belong  to  the  essential  truths  of  our  Creed,  which  to  us  are 
more  absolutely  established  certainties  than  anything  in  heaven 
and  earth  besides,  they  must  pardon  us  if,  while  we  are  still  willing 
to  give  the  most  candid  hearing  possible  to  everything  that  they 
have  to  urge,  we  yet  cannot,  if  we  would,  divest  ourselves  of  the 
deepest  certainties  of  our  existence ;  —  cannot  therefore  pretend 
to  argue  with  more  openness  of  mind  than  would  scientific  pro¬ 
fessors  —  say  with  a  champion  who  undertook  to  prove  that  the 
globe  was  flat,  or  that  the  sun  went  round  the  earth.  We  are 
ready  to  listen  to  everything.  We  are  fully  prepared  to  find  that 
the  champion  may  produce  in  evidence  some  phenomena  which 
we  shall  be  unable  to  account  for.  We  have  found  it  before ;  we 
are  not  unaccustomed  to  finding  it  (though,  in  good  time,  the  per¬ 
plexity  always  unravels  itself) ;  and  we  shall  be  in  no  way  discon¬ 
certed  if  we  find  it  again.  But  we  cannot  pretend  meanwhile  to 
hold  all  the  truth  which  our  consciences  have  known  in  suspense. 

V.  What  was  said  just  now  about  the  Creeds  will  not,  it  is 
hoped,  appear  to  any  minds  to  fail  in  the  entire  respect  which  is 
due  to  them.  Yet  it  makes  it,  perhaps,  the  more  incumbent  upon 
us  to  take  notice  of  another  form  of  attack  upon  dogma,  which 
connects  itself  with  an  attitude  about  the  Creeds,  such  as  may 
seem  at  first  sight  to  be  not  wholly  dissimilar ;  though  presently  all 
the  foundations  of  dogma  are  dissolved  by  it.  But  in  point  of 
fact,  if  we  admit  that  what  the  Creeds  mean  on  earth,  is  less  than 
what  the  same  truths  will  mean  in  heaven,  or  that  there  may  be, 
even  here,  a  clumsier,  and  a  completer,  understanding  of  them  ; 
this  is  a  position  essentially  different  from  maintaining  that  what 
the  Creeds  both  say  and  mean,  is  not  only  less  than,  but  (if  strictly 
taken)  inconsistent  with,  the  real  truth  ;  and  that  not  in  any  trans¬ 
cendent  sense,  as  celestial  beings,  with  wholly  other  faculties, 
may  conceivably  have  power  of  apprehending  it  in  heaven,  but  as 
the  more  intelligent  among  us  may,  and  do,  see  it  now.  This  is 
not  only  to  admit  that  the  Creeds  are  built  up,  perforce,  of  mate- 


218 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


rials  which  belong  to  this  earth ;  but  to  treat  them  as  mere  service¬ 
able  fictions  for  the  teaching  of  the  uncivilized  or  the  young.  The 
deliberate  unbeliever,  indeed,  assumes  that  the  Creeds  mean  what 
they  say,  and  that  the  Church  understands  the  Creeds.  Assuming 
this,  he  parts  company  with  the  Church,  because  he  holds  that  the 
statements  of  her  Creeds  are,  in  fact,  fictitious.  But  it  may  surprise 
us  to  find  that  there  is  another  form  of  this  view  of  the  fictitious¬ 
ness  of  Creeds,  and  that  here  the  critic  speaks,  not  at  all  in  the 
character  of  an  unbeliever,  but  rather  in  that  of  an  enlightened 
Churchman.  All  Christian  truth,  he  says,  is  true.  Even  the 
Creeds  in  a  real  sense  represent  the  truth.  But  the  Church’s 
understanding  and  expression  of  Christian  truth  in  the  Creeds  is 
none  the  less,  strictly,  a  misrepresentation  of  the  truth.  Though 
the  truth  of  Christ  lies  behind  the  Church’s  Creeds,  yet  they  have 
so  overlaid,  and  thereby,  in  strict  speech,  misstated  it,  that  it  is 
only  the  patience  of  criticism,  which  cutting  bravely  adrift  from 
the  authority  of  traditional  interpretation,  has  succeeded  in  dis¬ 
criminating  between  the  Creeds  and  the  meaning  of  the  Creeds,  and 
behind  what  are  practically  the  fictions  of  dogmatic  Christianity, 
has  re-discovered  the  germs  of  Christian  truth.  Neither  the  facts 
of  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ,  nor  His  teaching,  nor  His  consciousness 
in  regard  of  Himself,  were  as  we  have  been  taught,  but  were  some¬ 
thing  different.  He  never  thought  nor  taught  of  Himself  as  per¬ 
sonally  God,  nor  did  He  perform  any  miracles,  nor  did  He  rise 
on  the  third  day  from  the  dead.  Whatever  scriptures  state  these 
things  explicitly,  are  proved  by  that  very  fact  to  be  glosses  or 
errors.  And  yet,  all  the  while,  everything  is  true  spiritually.  The 
record  of  the  Incarnate  Life  is  true  literally,  it  may  be,  at  com¬ 
paratively  few  points  ;  certainly  not  the  story  of  the  Birth  ;  certainly 
not  the  story  of  the  Resurrection  ;  certainly  not  any  incident  which 
involves,  or  any  expression  which  implies,  miracle.  But  the  Birth, 
the  Resurrection,  the  miracles,  every  one  of  them,  represent,  in 
the  most  splendid  of  imaginative  language  and  portraiture,  essential 
spiritual  truths.  They  are  fictions,  but  vivid  representations,  in 
fiction,  of  fact ;  splendid  truths,  therefore,  so  long  as  they  are 
understood  to  be  literally  fictitious,  but  perversions  of  truth,  if 
taken  for  truth  of  fact. 

It  is  this  conception  which  was  set  forth  not  long  ago  with  a 
singular  power  and  persuasiveness  by  the  author  of  ‘  The  Kernel 
and  the  Husk.’  The  lofty  level  of  thought,  the  restraint  and 
felicity  of  language,  above  all  the  deeply  religious  spirit  of  the 
author,  invest  his  arguments  with  a  charm  of  unusual  attractiveness. 
The  arguments  are  not  such  as  it  is  wholly  pleasant  to  see  thus 


Vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma .  219 


recommended.  He  deals  in  detail,  in  the  course  of  the  volume, 
with  much  of  the  narrative  of  Scripture,  with  the  purpose  of  show¬ 
ing  how  one  by  one  the  various  records,  including  of  course  the 
Birth  and  Resurrection,  have  grown  to  their  present  form  out  of 
realities  which  contained  no  miracle,  and  which  therefore  differed 
essentially  from  the  historical  scriptures  and  faith  of  the  Church. 

It  is  no  part  of  our  task  to  enter  upon  such  details.  Nor  is  it 
necessary.  The  struggle  against  such  a  theory  of  Christianity  will 
not  be  fought  out  on  details.  It  may  be  conceded  that  many  of 
the  miracles,  taken  singly,  can  easily  be  made  to  fall  in  with  con¬ 
jectural  theories  as  to  a  mythical  origin,  if  only  the  antecedent 
conviction  against  their  reality  as  miracles  he  cogent  enough  really 
to  require  that  the  necessary  force  should  be  put  upon  the  evi¬ 
dence.  Some  indeed  may  lend  themselves  to  the  process  with  a 
facility  which  fairly  surprises  us.  Others  seem  still  to  be  very 
obstinate,  and  force  the  rationalizer  into  strange  hypotheses.  But 
after  all,  the  real  question  through  one  and  all,  is  not  how  easily 
this  or  that  miracle  can  be  made,  by  squeezing  of  evidence,  to 
square  with  a  rationalizing  hypothesis,  but  what  is  the  strength  of 
the  argument  for  the  rationalizing  hypothesis  itself,  which  is  the 
warrant  for  squeezing  the  evidence  at  all. 

The  Evangelists  say  that  Jesus  taught  in  the  synagogue  at  Caper¬ 
naum.  Our  author  takes  for  granted  that  He  did  so.  The  Evan¬ 
gelists  say  that  Jesus  miraculously  multiplied  loaves  and  fishes  in 
the  wilderness.  Our  author  takes  for  granted  that  He  did  not  so. 
Now  why  this  contrast?  Incidentally,  indeed,  it'may  be  remarked 
that  on  the  author's  own  general  method,  this  multiplication  of 
loaves  ouerht  to  be  one  of  the  most  certain  facts  in  the  life  of 

O 

Christ,  as  it  is  emphasized  in  every  Gospel.  But  this  is  by  the 
way.  The  real  ground  of  the  contrast  in  the  treatment  of  the 
same  evidence  is  a  certain  prior  conviction  with  which  the  evidence 
is  approached.  Now  we  are  not  contending  that  any  sugh  sifting 
of  evidence  in  the  light  of  prior  tests  is  inadmissible.  On  the 
contrary,  there  is  hardly  any  one  who  does  not,  on  a  similar  prin¬ 
ciple,  explain  the  differences  (for  example)  in  the  accounts  of  the 
title  upon  the  Cross,  or  the  difficulty  as  to  whether  Jesus  healed 
one  blind  man  or  two,  on  the  way  into,  or  out  from  Jericho  ;  but 
we  do  say  that  the  admissibleness  of  such  a  method  of  interpreting 
absolutely  depends  upon  the  certainty  of  the  correctness  of  the 
prior  conviction  itself. 

The  various  details  of  ingenuity,  then,  with  which  he  explains 
away  particular  incidents,  are  to  us  of  quite  subordinate  interest. 
Everything  depends  upon  the  cogency  of  the  grounds  for  explain- 


220 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


ing  away  at  all.  A  large  part  of  the  book  is  occupied  in  explaining 
away  the  facts  of  Christianity,  as  the  Christian  Church  has  hitherto 
understood  them,  —  an  explaining  away  which  may  be  more  or  less 
necessary,  more  or  less  satisfactory,  if  the  premises  which  require 
it  are  once  admitted,  but  which  certainly  is  wholly  unnecessary, 
and  wholly  unsatisfactory,  if  those  premises  are  denied. 

The  prior  conviction  in  the  book  in  question  is  that  miracles 
neither  do,  nor  did,  happen,  in  fact,  and  therefore  that  any  narra¬ 
tive  which  involves  them  is  incredible.  All  the  ingenuities  of  con¬ 
jecture  on  individual  points  become  relevant  subsequently  to,  and 
in  reliance  upon,  this  underlying  principle.  Admit  this,  and  they 
are  forthwith  interesting  and  valuable.  Deny  this,  and  they  lose 
their  importance  at  once.  It  is  the  pressure  of  this  prior  convic¬ 
tion  which  seems  to  give  life  and  force  to  a  number  of  suggestions, 
about  other  stories,  and  particularly  about  that  of  the  Resurrection, 
which,  apart  from  this  animating  conviction,  would  be  felt  to  be 
very  lifeless ;  and  to  a  total  experiment  of  subjective  reconstruc¬ 
tion,  which,  but  for  the  strength  of  the  antecedent  conviction, 
would  have  been  impossible  to  men  of  reverent  thought  and  mod¬ 
est  utterance.  The  teaching  of  the  book  will  therefore  really  be 
accepted  or  the  reverse,  precisely  according  as  the  minds  of  its 
readers  do,  or  do  not,  incline  to  admit  the  hypothesis  upon  which 
it  depends. 

It  is  probable,  indeed,  that  the  author  would  demur  to  this  state¬ 
ment,  at  least,  when  put  so  simply ;  on  the  ground  that,  though  he 
avows  the  conviction,  yet  he  has  reached  the  conviction  itself  by 
no  a  priori  road,  but  as  the  result  of  wide  observation  and  unpreju¬ 
diced  scrutiny  of  evidence.  Now  it  is  not  at  all  meant  to  be 
asserted  that  the  conviction  against  miracle  is  itself  reached  merely 
by  an  a  priori  method.  No  doubt  it  has,  in  fact,  been  arrived  at, 
in  those  minds  which  have  fully  arrived  at  it,  not  a  priori,  but  as 
the  result  of  a  great  induction  from  experience  ;  practically,  indeed, 
as  it  seems  to  them,  from  experience  as  good  as  universal.  The 
weight  of  the  evidence  in  this  direction  is  neither  denied  nor  for¬ 
gotten.  Yet  even  when  it  most  impresses  us,  of  course  it  is  obvious 
still  to  reply  to  ourselves  that  however  powerful  this  array  of  expe¬ 
rience  may  appear  so  long  as  there  are  no  instances  to  the  contrary, 
yet  any  one  contrary  instance  will  break  at  once  the  cogency  of 
the  induction.  The  case  of  Jesus  Christ  is  put  forward  as  being 
unique.  Its  uniqueness  is  not  really  qualified  by  the  fact  that  some 
others,  among  those  nearest  to  Himself,  were  by  Him  enabled  — 
avowedly  in  His  power,  not  their  own  —  to  do  acts  which  were 
impossible  to  other  men.  This  is  only  a  wider  extension  of  His 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  221 

unique  power,  not  a  qualification  of  it.  Against  such  a  case,  put 
forward  on  evidence  definite  and  multiform,  and  put  forward  as 
essentially  unique,  an  argument  from  induction  is  no  argument  at 
all.  It  is  a  misnomer  to  call  the  induction  an  argument.  The 
induction,  in  fact,  is  merely  an  observation  that  other  persons  did 
not  perform  similar  miracles;  and  that,  if  Jesus  Christ  did  so,  lie 
was  unique.  But  this  is  no  answer  to  the  Christian  position.  It  is 
part  of  the  position  itself. 

And  so  the  matter  must  be  referred  for  settlement  to  the  evidence 
that  is  actually  forthcoming  about  Jesus  Christ.  But  it  is  plain  that 
the  inductive  presumption  against  miracle,  derived  from  experience 
of  other  men,  must  not  come  in  to  warp  or  rule  this  evidence.  It 
may  be  present  indeed  as  a  sort  of  cross-examining  counsel,  as  a 
consideration  requiring  that  the  evidence  should  be  most  minutely 
scrutinized,  and  suggesting  all  sorts  of  questions  with  a  view  to  this. 
But  into  the  evidence  itself,  it  cannot  be  permitted  to  intrude. 

Now,  it  is  part  of  our  complaint  against  such  writers  as  the 
author  of  ‘  The  Kernel  and  the  Husk  ’  that  however  much  their  gen¬ 
eral  presumption  against  miracle  may  have  been  inductively  and 
patiently  reached;  yet  when  they  come  to  deal  with  the  evidence 
about  Jesus  Christ,  this  conviction  (which  ought  to  stand  on  one 
side  inquiringly)  becomes  to  them  an  underlying  postulate  ;  it  is 
settled  beforehand  ;  it  is  present  with  them  in  their  exegesis,  not 
simply  as  a  motive  for  sifting  the  evidence  carefully,  but  as  a  touch¬ 
stone  of  truth  by  which  it  may  all  be  tried.  Probably  the  author 
would  believe  that  he  has  reached  his  conviction  against  the  mira¬ 
cles  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  not  merely  from  a  general  induction  as 
to  the  absence  of  miracle  in  the  lives  of  others,  but  also  from  an 
unprejudiced  scrutiny  of  the  evidence  of  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ 
Himself.  But  this  is  just  what  we  are  not  at  all  prepared  to  con¬ 
cede.  On  the  contrary,  we  maintain  that  his  scrutiny  is  wholly 
prejudiced.  Examine  the  evidence  with  a  bias  sufficiently  power¬ 
ful  against  belief  in  miracle,  and  yon  may  end  in  the  result  which 
this  author  reaches.  Examine  it  without  such  a  bias,  and  you 
will  find  yourself  at  every  turn  protesting  against  his  mode  of  treat¬ 
ing  the  evidence.  It  is  a  scrutiny  of  the  evidence  on  the  basis  of 
the  inadmissibleness  of  miracles,  which  gives  him  that  coherent  the¬ 
ory  about  the  growth  of  the  Christian  tradition,  and  those  conse¬ 
quent  principles  of  interpretation  of  the  text  of  the  Gospels,  which 
he  appears  to  regard  as  the  simple  result  of  the  evidence  itself. 

We  shall  very  likely  be  surprised  to  find  that,  after  all,  the 
abstract  impossibility  of  miracle  is  not  laid  down  —  nay,  is  ex¬ 
pressly  disclaimed  —  by  him.  Miracle  (if  we  rightly  understand) 


222 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

is  not  impossible  absolutely,  —  not  even,  he  adds,  a  priori  improb¬ 
able  ;  yet  it  is  equivale?it  to  an  impossibility,  because  the  will  of  the 
Father  indwelt  wholly  in  Jesus,  and  because  the  perfect  uniformity 
of  natural  processes  as  we  have  experienced  them,  is,  in  fact ,  and 
with  no  exceptions,  the  will  of  the  Father.1  No  general  reflections 
upon  our  dependence,  in  ordinary  life,  on  the  good  faith  of  a 
uniform  nature,  ought  to  blind  us  to  the  fact  that  this  last  position 
neither  has,  nor  can  have,  any  adequate  ground  at  all.  It  is  sur¬ 
prising  that  with  so  weak  a  statement  of  the  impossibility  of  miracle, 
the  principle  of  the  impossibility  of  miracle  should  have  to  bear  the 
extraordinary  weight  that  is  put  upon  it.  Nothing  short  of  a 
demonstration  of  this  impossibility  would  fully  justify  the  critical 
position  that  is  adopted.  For  it  is,  in  fact,  upon  this  impossibility 
that  the  whole  re-reading  of  the  history  is  based. 

It  is  probably  true  that  if  once  the  hypothesis  of  the  impossibility 
of  miracle  be  accepted  as  practically  certain,  an  earnest  mind,  pen¬ 
etrated  with  this  as  its  overruling  principle,  and  dwelling  upon  the 
Gospels  always  and  only  in  the  light  of  this,  will  be  compelled 
gradually  to  re-read  in  one  place  and  re-interpret  in  another,  until 
the  whole  has  been,  by  steps  that  upon  the  hypothesis  were  irresis¬ 
tible,  metamorphosed  into  a  form  as  unlike  as  possible,  indeed,  to 
what  it  wore  at  first,  but  still  one  which  can  be  felt  to  be  precious 
and  beautiful.  But  we  are  entitled  to  point  out  how  absolutely  this 
re-reading  of  the  evidence  depends  upon  the  truth  of  the  principle 
which  underlies  it.  For  the  sake  of  this,  all  sorts  of  violence  has  to 
be  done  to  what  would  otherwise  be,  in  one  incident  after  another, 
the  obvious  meaning  of  words,  the  obvious  outcome  of  evidence. 
Without  the  certainty  of  this,  the  new  method  of  reading  must  be 
critically  condemned  as  baseless  and  arbitrary.  This  alone  makes 
it  rationally  possible.  Without  the  strong  cogency  of  this  it  falls 
instantly  to  pieces. 

Now,  orthodox  Christians  are  sometimes  accused  of  reading  their 
historical  evidence  in  the  light  of  a  preconception.  They  begin  with 
the  doctrine  of  the  Creed,  and  read  all  records  of  fact  with  the  con¬ 
viction  of  that  doctrine  in  their  hearts  and  consciences.  We  need 
not  be  altogether  concerned  to  combat  this  statement.  Perhaps 
few  records  are  read,  or  would  ever  be  read  intelligently,  except  in 
the  light  of  the  reader’s  preconceptions.  But  our  point  is  to  see 
clearly  that  at  all  events  the  new  reading  of  the  Gospel  history  is 
itself  so  entirely  the  outcome  and  creature  of  its  antecedent  princi¬ 
ple  that  it  cannot  without  that  hold  together  for  an  instant. 


1  See  especially  the  concluding  paragraphs  of  letter  xix. 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  223 

Let  us  be  content,  for  the  moment,  to  view  the  orthodox  Chris¬ 
tian  and  the  new  rationalist  as  both  alike  really  reading  the  Gospel 
narrative  in  the  light  of  a  preconceived  principle ;  the  one  view¬ 
ing  everything  on  the  basis  of  the  perfect  Divinity  of  the  historical 
Jesus  Christ  (with  the  corollary  that  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  deter¬ 
mine  a  priori  what  power  His  perfect  Humanity  —  for  which  we 
have  no  precedent  —  would,  or  would  not,  naturally  and  necessa¬ 
rily  exhibit)  ;  the  other  viewing  everything  on  the  basis  of  the  abso¬ 
lute  impossibility,  or  at  least  the  incredibleness,  of  miracle.  We 
might  point  out  that  the  former  in  his  hypothesis  has  a  principle 
which  absolutely  fits  and  perfectly  accounts  for  every  part  of  the 
evidence  which  confronts  him  ;  while  the  the  latter  is  compelled, 
by  the  cogency  of  his  principle,  to  reconstruct  for  himself  almost 
every  chapter  of  the  evidence.  And  if  we  go  one  step  farther  back 
and  ask  what  is  the  antecedent  reasonableness  of  the  one  hypothe¬ 
sis,  or  of  the  other?  from  what  source  is  each  derived?  we  must 
claim  it  as  simple  fact,  that  the  former  hypothesis  is  itself  the  direct 
outcome  of  the  evidence,  —  the  inevitable  outcome,  indeed,  so  long 
as  the  evidence  stands  ;  while  the  other  is,  at  bottom,  an  assump¬ 
tion,  held  absolutely  in  the  teeth  of  the  evidence  actually  existing 
in  respect  of  the  life  and  consciousness  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and 
itself  on  other  grounds  not  merely  unproved,  but  essentially  inca¬ 
pable  of  proof.1 

But  if  our  hypothesis  is  itself  the  outcome  of  the  evidence,  and 
fits  with  perfect  exactness  into  all  its  intricacies,  then  we  yield  far 
too  much  if  we  treat  it  as  on  the  level  of  a  mere  preconception. 
To  persist  in  reading  the  New  Testament  by  the  light  of  the  pre¬ 
conception  of  the  dogma  of  Christ’s  Godhead  (with  the  corollary 
that  no  miracle  is  incredible  as  miracle),  is  to  be  prejudiced  only 
in  the  same  sense  in  which  the  scientist  is  prejudiced  who  persists 
in  studying  the  records  of  astronomy  in  the  light  of  certain  precon¬ 
ceptions  as  to  the  parabola  or  the  law  of  gravitation. 

t  But  what  is  the  case  with  the  other  hypothesis  ?  By  it  the 
historical  Jesus  Christ  is  swept  away  ;  and  another  personality, 
which  does  not  exist  in  the  history  at  all,  but  which  the  history  has 
suggested  to  certain  earnest-minded  critics  of  our  own  day,  is 
substituted  in  His  place.  All  those  who  witnessed  of  His  words 
and  deeds  to  the  Church,  all  those  whose  witness  the  Church  has 
accepted  and  sealed,  are  thoroughly  mistaken,  mistaken  in  the 

1  ‘The  question  of  miracles  seems  now  to  be  admitted  on  all  hands  to  be 
simply  a  question  of  evidence.’  These  are  the  words  as  much  of  Professor 
Huxlev  as  of  the  Duke  of  Argyll.  Nineteenth  Century,  April,  1887,  p.  483  ; 
cp.  February,  1887,  pp.  201,  etc. 


224 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


very  points  which  to  them  were  fundamental.  However  honest 
they  may  have  been  in  their  superstitious  ignorance,  they  certainly 
bore  to  the  world  what  wras,  in  fact,  false  testimony.  It  is  impres¬ 
sive,  with  a  strange  impressiveness,  to  follow  this  hypothesis 
through  the  story  of  Christ’s  life ;  and  see  with  what  ingenuity, 
often  plausible,  often  pathetic,  the  old  facts  are  refashioned  to 
meet  the  new  principle. 

Cardinal,  of  course,  in  difficulty  as  in  importance,  is  the  narra¬ 
tive  of  the  Resurrection ;  that  plain  statement  of  fact,  to  testify 
whereto  was  the  primary  qualification,  and  primary  function,  of 
Apostleship  ;  and  which,  from  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  downwards, 
has  always  been  recognized  as  cardinal  to  the  faith  of  the  Church. 

Now  given,  first,  the  certain  conviction  that  no  miracle  oc¬ 
curred  ;  and  secondly,  a  working  hypothesis  as  to  the  growth  of 
the  Christian  Scriptures,  which  not  only  enables,  but  requires,  you 
to  set  aside,  on  grounds  of  subjective  criticism;  all  such  evidence 
as  seems  to  you  to  be  improbable  ;  and  it  follows  that,  if  you  are 
still  of  a  very  religious  mind,  you  will  probably  have  to  take  refuge 
in  what  may  yet  be  to  you  the  beautiful  story  of  a  Resurrection 
exclusively  spiritual. 

You  must,  of  course,  deal  very  violently  with  the  direct  evi¬ 
dence.  But  that  is  already  covered  by  the  general  theory  you 
have  reached  as  to  the  historical  genesis  and  value  (or  lack  of 
value)  of  the  books  of  the  New  Testament.  And,  of  course,  in 
adopting  such  a  view  of  the  books  of  the  New  Testament,  you  are 
reducing  to  a  phantasm  the  reality  of  your  belief  in  the  Holy 
Catholic  Church,  which  has  enshrined  and  consecrated,  as  per- 
fectest  truth,  what  are  really  at  best  only  fables,  —  capable,  indeed, 
of  clumsily  representing  the  truth  to  the  childish  or  the  stupid, 
but  beginning  to  be  absolutely  pernicious  to  minds  which  have 
reached  a  certain  point  of  intelligent  education. 

Tolerating  these  things,  however,  you  may  admit  the  truth  of 
.he  Resurrection  (as  you  may  admit  every  proposition  of  the 
Creed)  in  words  ;  only  in  a  sense  so  refined,  so  exclusively  spirit¬ 
ual,  that  no  bodily  reality  of  resurrection  is  left.  There  is  no 
resurrection  in  your  creed  correlative  to  the  dying.  There  is  no 
resurrection  more,  or  more  demonstrable,  than  what  we  believe  to 
be  true  of  men  in  general.  There  is  no  resurrection  which  enters 
within  the  ordinary  sphere  of  human  history,  or  admits  any  direct 
contact  with  the  normal  methods  of  human  evidence  or  human 
proof.  The  question  raised  is  not  whether  current  imaginations  of 
the  Resurrection  may  possibly  be  more  or  less  exaggerated  in  the 
way  of  materialism,  but  whether  there  was  any  corporeal  reality 


vi.  The  Incarnation  as  the  Basis  of  Dogma.  225 

of  resurrection  at  all.  And  the  question  is  settled  in  the  negative. 
The  foundation  tact  of  the  Creed  is  etherealized  away  ;  and  all  the 
rest,  with  it,  becomes  together  impalpable  and  subjective. 

We  do  not  say  that  there  is  not  a  large  element  which  is  true, 
in  the  thought  of  such  a  writer  as  we  have  been  considering. 
Where  the  mind  is  so  devoutly  in  earnest,  it  is  no  hard  task  to 
believe  that  it  too  must  be  animated  originally  by  truth.  We  need 
not  say,  therefore,  that  the  work  ot  this  earnestness  may  not  serve 
us  all,  and  contribute  to  the  thought  of  us  all.  It  may  well  be 
true  that  in  our  bald  understanding  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Resur¬ 
rection,  —  or  indeed  of  the  whole  Incarnation,  from  beginning  to 
end,  —  we  have,  many  of  us,  too  little  imagined  the  scope  and 
depth  ot  its  spiritual  import.  It  our  orthodoxy  has  been  so  well  con¬ 
tent  with  insisting  mechanically  upon  the  literal  fact,  as  not  only  to 
forget,  but  to  disdain  or  disown  in  any  measure,  the  vast  spiritual 
realities  which  it  ought  to  express  to  us  ;  then  our  stupidity,  or 
narrowness,  in  orthodoxy,  is  in  part  to  blame,  for  the  distaste 
which  they  have  created  towards  orthodoxy  in  some  natures  more 
sensitive  than  our  own.  In  so  far  as  they  can,  in  this  respect, 
return  good  for  evil,  we  will  not  be  slow  to  acknowledge  our  debt 
to  them.  YY  e  will  be  grateful  for  any  new  suggestion  they  can 
discover,  as  to  the  moral  beauty  or  import  of  the  Resurrection,  or 
of  the  Incarnation,  or  of  any  or  every  other  miracle,  considered 
upon  its  moral  side  as  allegory.  Some  ways  at  least  there  may  be, 
in  which  their  insistence  may  tend  to  deepen  for  us  our  under¬ 
standing  of  truths,  whose  more  spiritual  aspects  we  had  dwelt 
upon  perhaps,  in  some  cases,  —  perhaps  had  even  imagined,  — 
far  too  little.  But  doubtless  that  true  element  of  their  work,  which 
the  mind  of  the  Catholic  Church  will  assimilate,  will  be  greatly 
modified  from  the  form  in  which  it  now  presents  itself — to  them 
as  to  others.  It  will,  to  say  the  least,  be  positive  rather  than 
negative  ;  stimulating  spiritual  sensibilities,  but  not  by  explaining 
away  the  facts  of  the  body  ;  widening  (it  may  be)  our  insight  into 
the  divineness  of  history,  and  the  depth  of  the  meaning  of  certain 
events  which  happened  in  it,  —  but  not  shattering  both  it  and 
them,  by  dissolving  their  historical  truth. 

Meanwhile  of  the  one-sided  aspect  we  can  but  say  that  no 
doubt  transcendental  spiritualism  has  a  great  attractiveness.  The 
Magian  aspiration  always  was  fascinating.  Individuals,  indeed,  of 
enthusiastic  sympathies,  trained  themselves  in  dogmatic  truth,  and 
indulging  their  freest  speculations  always  on  a  background  of 
inveterate  dogmatic  instinct,  may  fancy  the  1  spiritualized  Chris¬ 
tianity  ’  to  be  in  itself  a  stable  and  a  living  completeness  ;  but  as 


226 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


a  system,  it  will  neither  produce  life  nor  perpetuate  it.  It  is  an 
attempt  to  improve  upon  the  Church  of  Christ,  upon  the  condi¬ 
tions  of  human  nature,  upon  the  facts  of  history.  The  Church 
of  Christ  is  not  so.  The  Church  of  Christ  does  not  ignore  the 
fundamental  conditions  of  human  experience.  The  Church  of 
Christ  is  balanced,  harmonious,  all-embracing,  all-adjusting.  The 
Incarnation  was  the  sanctifying  of  both  parts  of  human  nature, 
not  the  abolition  of  either.  The  Church,  the  Sacraments,  human 
nature,  Jesus  Christ  Himself,  all  are  twofold  ;  all  are  earthly  objec¬ 
tive,  as  well  as  transcendental  spiritual.  And  so  long  as  this  world 
is  real  as  well  as  the  next ;  so  long  as  man  is  body  as  well  as  soul ; 
so  long  all  attempts  to  evaporate  the  body  and  its  realities  are 
foredoomed  to  a  necessary  and  a  salutary  failure.  The  religion, 
which  attempts  to  be  rid  of  the  bodily  side  of  things  spiritual, 
sooner  or  later  loses  hold  of  all  reality.  Pure  spiritualism,  however 
noble  the  aspiration,  however  living  the  energy  with  which  it  starts, 
always  has  ended  at  last,  and  will  always  end,  in  evanescence. 


VII. 


THE  ATONEMENT. 


♦ 


ARTHUR  LYTTELTON. 


VII. 


THE  ATONEMENT. 

I.  Theological  doctrine,  describing,  as  it  professes  to  do,  the 
dealings  of  an  all-wise  Person  with  the  human  race,  must  be  a 
consistent  whole,  each  part  of  which  reflects  the  oneness  of  the 
will  on  which  it  is  based.  What  we  call  particular  doctrines  are  in 
reality  only  various  applications  to  various  human  conditions  of 
one  great  uniform  method  of  Divine  government,  which  is  the 
expression  in  human  affairs  of  one  Divine  will.  The  theological 
statement  of  any  part  of  this  method  ought  to  bear  on  its  face  the 
marks  of  the  whole  from  which  it  is  temporarily  separated  ;  for 
though  it  may  be  necessary  to  make  now  this,  now  that  doctrine 
prominent,  to  isolate  it  and  lay  stress  on  it,  this  should  be  done 
in  such  a  way  that  in  each  special  truth  the  whole  should,  in  a 
manner,  be  contained.  We  must  be  able  to  trace  out  in  each  the 
lines  of  the  Divine  action  which  is  only  fully  displayed  in  the 
whole.  Neglect  of  this  not  only  makes  our  faith  as  a  whole  weak 
and  incoherent,  but  deprives  the  doctrines  themselves  of  the  illu¬ 
mination  and  strength  which  are  afforded  by  the  discovery  in  them 
of  mutual  likeness  and  harmony.  They  become  first  unintelligible 
and  then  inconceivable,  and  the  revelation  of  the  character  of  God, 
which  should  be  perceived  in  every  part  of  His  dealings  with  men, 
becomes  confused  and  dim  to  us.  This  has  been  especially  the 
case  with  the  Atonement.  In  the  course  of  religious  controversy 
this  doctrine  has  become  separated  from  the  rest,  at  one  time 
neglected,  at  another  over-emphasized,  till  in  its  isolation  it  has 
been  so  stated  as  to  be  almost  incredible.  Men  could  not  indeed 
be  brought  to  disbelieve  in  forgiveness,  however  attained,  and  the 
conviction  of  remission  of  sins  through  and  in  the  Blood  of  Christ 
has  survived  all  the  theories  which  have  been  framed  to  account 
for  it;  but  nevertheless,  the  unreality  of  these  theories  has  been  a 
disaster  to  the  Christian  faith.  Some  of  them  have  strained  our 
belief  in  the  moral  attributes  of  God,  others  have  given  men  easy 
thoughts  of  sin  and  its  consequences.  This  has  been  so  because 


230  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

they  have  treated  the  Atonement  apart  from  the  whole  body  of 
facts  which  make  up  the  Christian  conception  of  God  and  His 
dealings  with  men.  In  this  essay  the  attempt  will  be  made  to  pre¬ 
sent  the  doctrine  in  its  relation  to  the  other  great  Christian  truths ; 
to  the  doctrines,  that  is,  of  God,  of  the  Incarnation,  of  sin. 

(1)  On  the  human  side  the  fact  with  which  we  have  to  deal  is 
the  fact  of  sin.  Of  this  conception  the  Bible,  the  most  complete 
record  of  the  religious  history  of  man,  is  full  from  the  first  page  to 
the  last.  Throughout  the  whole  course  of  Jewish  development, 
the  idea  that  man  has  offended  the  justice  of  God  was  one  of  the 
abiding  elements  in  the  religious  consciousness  of  the  race.  But 
it  was  by  no  means  confined  to  the  Jews.  They  have  been  truly 
called  the  conservators  of  the  idea  of  sin ;  but  it  has  never  been 
permanently  absent,  in  some  form  or  other,  from  the  human  mind, 
although  we  learn  most  about  it,  and  can  see  it  in  its  clearest,  most 
intense  form,  in  the  Hebrew  religion.  Now  this  conception  of  sin 
in  its  effect  on  the  human  soul  is  of  a  twofold  character.  Sin  is 
felt  to  be  alienation  from  God,  Who  is  the  source  of  life,  and 
strength,  and  peace,  and  in  consequence  of  that  alienation  the 
whole  nature  is  weakened  and  corrupted.  In  this  aspect  sin  is 
a  state  in  which  the  will  is  separated  from  the  Divine  will,  the  life 
is  cut  off  from  the  life  of  God  which  He  designed  us  to  share. 
When  men  come  to  realize  what  is  meant  by  union  with  God,  and 
to  feel  the  awful  consequences  of  separation,  there  arises  at  once 
the  longing  for  a  return,  a  reconciliation  ;  but  this  longing  has  by 
itself  no  power  to  effect  so  great  a  change.  To  pass  from  aliena¬ 
tion  to  union  is  to  pass  from  darkness  to  light,  from  evil  to  good, 
and  can  only  be  accomplished  by  that  very  power,  the  power  of  a 
life  united  to  God,  which  has  been  forfeited  by  sin.  Only  in 
union  with  God  can  man  accomplish  anything  that  is  good  ;  and, 
therefore,  so  long  as  he  is  alienated  from  God,  he  can  only  long 
for,  he  cannot  obtain,  his  reunion  with  the  Divine  life.  Sin  there¬ 
fore,  thus  considered,  is  not  only  wickedness ;  it  is  also  misery  and 
hopelessness.  Sinners  are  1  without  God  in  the  world/  and  for 
that  reason  they  ‘  have  no  hope.’ 

This  is  the  aspect  of  sin  as  a  state  of  the  sinful  soul,  and  as 
affecting  the  present  relation  between  man  and  God.  It  has 
destroyed  the  union,  has  broken  down  even  the  sacrificial  bridge, 
for  it  has  made  all  acceptable  offerings  impossible.  Man's  will  is 
weakened,  therefore  he  has  not  strength  to  offer  himself  completely 
and  unreservedly  to  God  ;  his  nature  is  corrupted  and  stained, 
therefore  his  offering,  could  he  make  it,  could  not  be  accepted. 
Sin  is  a  hopeless  state  of  weakness  and  uncleanness.  But  there  is 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


231 


another,  in  one  sense  an  earlier,  more  fundamental  aspect  of  sin. 
The  sins  of  the  past  have  produced  not  merely  weakness  and  cor¬ 
ruption,  but  also  guilt.  The  sinner  feels  himself  guilty  before  God. 
If  we  examine  the  idea  of  guilt,  as  realized  by  the  conscience,  it 
will  be  seen  to  contain  the  belief  in  an  external  power,  or  law,  or 
person  against  whom  the  offence  has  been  committed,  and  also  an 
internal  feeling,  the  acknowledgment  of  ill-desert,  a  sense  of  being 
under  sentence,  and  that  justly.  Whether  the  punishment  which 
is  felt  to  be  the  due  reward  of  the  offence  has  been  borne  or  not, 
the  conception  of  punishment,  when  the  offence  has  been  com¬ 
mitted,  cannot  be  avoided,  and  it  brings  with  it  a  conviction  of  its 
justice.  These  two  elements,  the  external  and  the  internal  element, 
seem  to  be  necessary  to  the  full  conception  of  guilt.  The  com¬ 
mon  fallacy  that  a  self-indulgent  sinner  is  no  one’s  enemy  but  his 
own  would,  were  it  true,  involve  the  further  inference  that  such  a 
sinner  would  not  feel  himself  guilty.  But  it  is  precisely  because 
the  consciousness  of  sin  does  not  and  cannot  stop  here  that,  over 
and  above  any  injury  to  self,  any  weakness  or  even  corruption  pro¬ 
duced  by  sin,  we  speak  of  its  guilt.  ’'Against  Thee,  Thee  only, 
have  I  sinned,  and  done  that  which  is  evil  in  Thy  sight.’  This 
belief  in  an  external  power,  whose  condemnation  has  been  incurred 
by  sin,  may  take  various  forms ;  for  the  power  may  be  represented 
as  impersonal  or  as  personal,  as  law  or  as  God.  For  our  present 
purposes,  however,  the  distinction  is  immaterial ;  the  essential 
point  is  that  it  is  something  external  to  ourselves,  not  merely  the 
echo  of  the  sinner’s  own  self-inflicted  pain  and  injury.  We  cannot, 
however,  limit  it  to  this.  For  it  is  not  merely  an  external  power, 
it  is  also  a  just  power  that  is  presented  to  the  sense  of  guilt. 
Before  bare  power,  unrighteous  or  non-moral,  an  offender  may  be 
compelled  to  submit,  but  he  will  not  feel  guilt.  The  state  of  mind 
expressed  by  Mill’s  well-known  defiance  is  his  who  has  offended  a 
superior  power  which  he  cannot  believe  to  be  just,  and  it  is  very 
far  removed  from  the  feeling  of  guiltiness.1  The  sense  of  guilt 
implies  the  righteousness  as  well  as  the  power  of  that  against  which 
we  have  offended  ;  it  is  a  moral  conviction.  Guiltiness,  then, 
regarded  in  one  aspect  is  the  sense  of  sin,  in  another  it  is  the 
recognition  of  the  law  of  righteousness,  or,  if  we  may  now  assume 
the  religious  point  of  view,  it  is  the  conviction  of  the  wrath  of 
God  against  sin. 

1  Mill,  Examination  of  Sir  W.  Hamilton’s  Philosophy,  p.  103:  ‘I  will 
call  no  being  good  who  is  not  what  I  mean  when  I  apply  that  epithet  to  my 
fellow-creatures  ;  and  if  such  a  being  can  sentence  me  to  hell  for  not  so 
calling  him,  to  hell  I  will  go.’ 


232  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

It  is  plain,  if  we  will  only  scrutinize  closely  and  candidly  the 
conception  of  sin  and  guilt,  that  no  merely  *  subjective  ’  explana¬ 
tion  will  account  for  the  facts  revealed  by  our  consciousness. 
Even  if  we  had  no  scriptural  evidence  to  guide  us,  the  evidence, 
that  is,  to  take  it  at  the  lowest,  of  a  series  of  specially  qualified 
witnesses  to  religious  phenomena,  our  own  hearts  would  tell  us  of 
the  wrath  of  God  against  sin.  It  is  irresistibly  felt  that  there  is  a 
Power  hostile  to  sin,  and  that  this  Power  has  decreed  a  righteous 
punishment  for  the  offences  which  are  the  external  signs  and 
results  of  the  sinful  state.  Whatever  the  punishment  may  be,  a 
question  we  need  not  now  discuss,  the  sinner’s  conscience  warns 
him  of  it.  He  may  apparently,  or  for  a  time,  escape  it ;  but  it  is 
none  the  less  felt  to  be  the  fitting  expression  of  Divine  wrath,  the 
righteous  manifestation  of  the  hostility  of  God’s  nature  to  sin  and 
all  its  consequences.  Guilt,  then,  like  sin,  has  its  twofold  charac¬ 
ter.  It  is  the  belief  in  an  external  hostility  to  sin  expressing  itself 
in  punishment,  and  also  the  conviction  that  such  punishment  is 
righteous  and  just.  Thus,  when  once  God  is  recognized  as  the 
offended  Person,  the  acknowledgment  of  the  righteousness  of  His 
judgment  follows.  ‘  Against  Thee,  Thee  only,  have  I  sinned,  and 
done  that  which  is  evil  in  Thy  sight ;  that  Thou  mightest  be  justified 
when  Thou  speakest,  and  be  clear  when  Thou  judgest.’ 

(2)  Gorresponding  to  the  sense  of  sin  in  its  twofold  aspect  we 
find,  not  only  in  the  Mosaic  system  or  in  the  scriptural  history, 
but  almost  universally  established,  the  system  of  sacrifice.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  maintain  that  sacrifice,  in  its  essential  idea,  was 
intended  to  express  the  consciousness  of  sin.  Rather,  it  seems  to 
be,  essentially,  the  expression  of  the  very  opposite  of  sin,  of  that 
relation  of  man  to  God  which  sin  destroyed.1  It  is  sometimes 
said  that  sacrifice  is  the  recognition  of  God’s  sovereignty,  the  tribute 
paid  by  His  subjects.  This  is,  of  course,  a  necessary  element  in 
the  conception  of  sacrifice,  for  God  is  our  King ;  but  it  does  not 
satisfy  the  whole  consciousness  which  man  has  of  his  original  rela¬ 
tion  to  God.  That  is  a  relation,  not  of  subjection  only,  but  of 
union  at  least  as  close  as  that  of  sons  to  a  Father,  a  union  whereby 
we  derive  life  from  His  life,  and  render  back  absolute  unquestion¬ 
ing  love  to  Plim.  Sacrifice  is,  in  its  highest,  original  meaning,  the 
outward  expression  of  this  love.  As  human  love  naturally  takes 
outward  form  in  gifts,  and  the  closer,  the  more  fervent  it  is,  makes 
those  gifts  more  and  more  personal,  till  at  last  it  wholly  gives 
itself;  so  sacrifice  should  be  the  recognition  of  our  union  with 


1  Cf.  Holland,  Logic  and  Life,  pp.  107,  108. 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


233 


God,  an  expression  of  our  love  for  Him,  giving  Hun  all  that  we 
have  and  all  that  we  are.  Submission,  reverence,  love,  are  the 
original  feelings  which  sacrifice  was  intended  to  represent ;  and  it 
may  be  called,  therefore,  the  expression  of  man’s  relations  to  God 
in  their  purest  form,  unmarred  and  unbroken  by  sin.  But  this  is 
only  the  original,  ideal  meaning,  for  with  the  intrusion  of  sin 
another  element  appears  in  sacrifice  ;  and  men  attempt,  by  their 
offerings,  to  expiate  their  offences,  to  cover  their  sins,  to  wipe 
out  their  guilt,  to  propitiate  Divine  wrath.  But  though  this  new 
element  is  introduced,  the  original  intention  is  not  altogether  lost. 
The  union  has  been  destroyed  by  sin,  but  even  in  the  sin-offerings 
under  the  Law  there  was  expressed  the  endeavor  to  regain  it,  to 
enter  once  more  into  living  relations  with  God  :  while  the  normal 
sacrifices  of  the  congregation  went  beyond  this,  and  represented 
the  exercise  of  a  right  based  on  union  with  God,  the  presentation 
of  the  people  before  Him.  Thus  we  must  recognize  in  the  Mo¬ 
saic  sacrifices  —  the  most  complete  and  typical  form  of  the  sacri¬ 
ficial  idea  —  the  twofold  aspect  which  corresponds  to  the  twofold 
effect  of  sin  on  the  human  race.  There  is  the  offering,  sometimes 
the  bloodless  offering,  by  which  was  typified  simply  man’s  depend¬ 
ence  on  God,  his  submission  to  Him,  his  life  derived  from  Him 
and  therefore  rendered  back  to  Him.  From  this  point  of  view 
the  sacrifice  culminated,  not  in  the  slaying  and  offering  of  the 
victim,  but  in  the  sprinkling  of  the  blood,  the  1  principle  of  life,’ 
upon  the  altar.  The  priestly  mediators  brought  the  blood,  which 
‘  maketh  atonement  by  reason  of  the  life,’  before  God,  and  sprin¬ 
kled  it  upon  the  altar,  in  order  that  the  lost  union  with  God  in  the 
covenant  might  be  restored,  and  life  once  more  derived  from  God 
as  it  had  been  offered  to  Him.  The  whole  system  was  indeed 
only  partial,  temporary,  external.  The  Mosaic  sacrifices  ‘  sancti¬ 
fied  unto  the  cleanness  of  the  flesh,’  they  did  not  ‘  cleanse  the 
conscience  from  dead  works  to  serve  the  living  God.’  So  the  res¬ 
toration  which  the  special  sin-offerings  accomplished  was  merely 
external  and  temporary,  the  reunion  of  the  offender  with  the  con¬ 
gregation  of  Israel  from  which  his  fault  had  separated  him.  But 
as  this  excommunication  symbolized  the  loss,  brought  about  by 
sin,  of  life  with  God,  so  the  reunion  with  the  congregation  typi¬ 
fied  the  reunion  of  the  sinner  with  God.  As  a  system,  then, 
the  Mosaic  sacrifices  both  corresponded  to  a  deep  desire  of  the 
human  heart,  the  desire  to  recover  the  lost  relation  to  the  Divine 
life,  and  also  by  their  imperfection  pointed  forward  to  a  time 
when,  by  means  of  a  more  perfect  offering,  that  restoration  should 
be  complete,  accomplished  once  for  all,  and  eternal.  This  is  one 


234 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


aspect  of  the  sacrificial  system.  But  before  this  typical  restoration 
of  life,  there  came  the  mysterious  act  which  corresponded  to  the 
sense  of  guilt.  Leaving  aside  the  lesser  offerings  of  the  show- 
bread  and  the  incense,  it  may  be  said  generally  that  in  every 
sacrifice  the  slaying  of  a  victim  was  a  necessary  element.  And 
there  is  deep  significance  in  the  manner  in  which  the  slaying  was 
performed.  The  hands  of  the  offerer  laid  upon  the  victim’s  head 
denoted,  according  to  the  unvarying  use  of  the  Old  Testament, 
the  representative  character  of  the  animal  offered,  and  thus  the 
victim  was,  so  to  speak,  laden  with  the  guilt  of  him  who  sought 
for  pardon  and  reconciliation.  The  victim  was  then  slain  by  the 
offerer  himself,  and  the  death  thus  became  an  acknowledgment  of 
the  justice  of  God’s  punishments  for  sin  :  it  was  as  if  the  offerer 
declared,  ‘  This  representative  of  my  guilt  I  here,  by  my  own  act, 
doom  to  death,  in  satisfaction  of  the  righteous  law  of  vengeance 
against  sin,  for  “  the  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die.”  ’  It  was  not, 
therefore,  till  the  sense  of  personal  guilt  had  been  expressed  by 
the  act  which  constituted  the  victim  a  representative  of  the  offerer, 
and  by  the  slaying  which  typified  the  need  of  expiation  by  suffer¬ 
ing  for  sin,  that  the  sacrifice  was  fit  to  be  presented  before  God  by 
the  mediation  of  the  priest,  and  the  blood,  ‘  the  life  which  had 
willingly  passed  through  death,’ 1  could  be  sprinkled  as  a  token  of 
restored  life  in  God.  A  careful  study  of  the  Mosaic  sacrifices  will 
show  the  twofold  character  impressed  upon  them.  Both  aspects 
are  necessary,  they  may  even  be  described  as  two  sides  of  the 
same  fact.  Before  God  can  be  approached  by  a  sinner  he  must 
expiate  his  sin  by  suffering,  must  perfectly  satisfy  the  demands  of 
the  law,  must  atone  for  the  past  which  has  loaded  him  with  guilt : 
and  then,  as  part  of  the  same  series  of  acts,  the  life  so  sacrificed, 
so  purified  by  the  expiatory  death,  is  accepted  by  God,  and  being 
restored  from  Him,  becomes  the  symbol  and  the  means  of  union 
with  Him.  Forgiveness  for  the  past,  cleansing  in  the  present,  hope 
for  the  future,  are  thus  united  in  one  great  symbolic  ceremony. 

The  Mosaic  system  was  only  external,  ‘  sanctifying  unto  the 
cleanness  of  the  flesh  ;  ’  partial,  for  it  provided  no  expiation  for 
the  graver  moral  transgressions ;  temporary,  for  the  sacrifices  had 
to  be  repeated  ‘  day  by  day ;  ’  provisional,  for,  ‘  if  there  was  per¬ 
fection  through  the  Levitical  priesthood,  „  .  .  what  further  need 
was  there  that  another  priest  should  arise  after  the  order  of  Mel- 
chizedek?’  In  spite,  however,  of  these  obvious  defects  and  limi¬ 
tations  in  the  Mosaic  system,  there  was  a  constant  tendency  among 


1  Milligan,  The  Resurrection,  p.  278. 


vii.  The  Atonement . 


235 


the  Jews  to  rest  content  with  it,  to  rely  upon  the  efficacy  of  these 
external  sacrifices  and  ceremonies  for  their  whole  religion,  to 
believe  that  ‘  the  blood  of  bulls  and  goats  ’  could  ‘  put  away  sin/ 
and  that  no  inner  spiritual  repentance  or  renovation  was  required. 
And  the  highest  minds  of  the  nation,  represented  by  the  prophets, 
were  keenly  alive  to  this  danger  :  their  rebukes  and  remonstrances 
show  how  strongly  they  felt  the  imperfection  of  the  sacrificial  sys¬ 
tem,  how  it  failed  to  satisfy  the  really  religious  cravings  of  spiritual 
minds.  Yet  there  it  was,  divinely  ordained,  clearly  necessary  as 
the  expression  of  the  national  religious  life,  profoundly  signifi¬ 
cant.  It  could  not  be  dispensed  with,  yet  it  could  not  satisfy :  in 
its  incompleteness,  as  well  as  in  its  symbolism,  it  pointed  forward, 
and  foreshadowed  a  perfect  expiation. 

(3)  This  examination  of  the  sacrificial  system  of  the  Old  Tes¬ 
tament  is  necessary  in  a  discussion  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Atone¬ 
ment,  for  several  reasons.  The  institutions  of  the  Law  were,  in 
the  first  place,  ordained  by  God,  and  therefore  intended  to  reveal 
in  some  degree  His  purposes,  His  mind  towards  man.  We  thus 
find  in  them  traces  of  the  fuller  revelation  which  came  afterwards, 
and  the  two  dispensations  throw  light  on  each  other.  Then  again, 
it  was  from  the  Law  that  the  Jews  derived  their  religious  language  : 
their  conceptions  of  sacrifice,  of  atonement,  of  the  effects  of  sin, 
were  moulded  by  the  influence  of  the  Mosaic  ceremonies.  For 
this  reason  the  Apostolic  doctrine  of  the  Atonement  must  be  looked 
at  in  connection  with  the  ideas  inspired  by  the  Law,  although,  of 
course,  the  life  and  work  of  our  Lord  so  enlarged  the  religious 
conceptions  of  the  Apostles  as  to  constitute  a  fresh  revelation. 
But  it  was  a  revelation  on  the  lines,  so  to  speak,  of  the  old  ;  it 
took  up  and  continued  the  ideas  implanted  by  the  Mosaic  reli¬ 
gion,  and  displayed  the  fulfilment  of  the  earlier  promises  and  fore¬ 
casts.  It  is,  therefore,  from  the  Old  Testament  that  we  have  to 
learn  the  vocabulary  of  the  Apostolic  writings.  As  the  Messianic 
hopes  and  phraseology  throw’  light  upon  the  Apostolic  conception 
of  the  Kingdom  of  Christ,  so  the  sacrificial  ceremonies  and  lan¬ 
guage  of  the  Law  throw  light  upon  the  Apostolic  conception  of 
the  Sacrifice,  the  Atonement  of  Christ.  But  this  is  not  all.  The 
Mosaic  institutions,  in  their  general  outlines,  were  no  arbitrary 
and  artificial  symbols,  but  corresponded  to  religious  feelings,  needs, 
aspirations  that  may  truly  be  called  natural  and  universal.  This 
conception  of  sin  in  its  twofold  aspect  of  alienation  and  of  guilt, 
and  this  idea  of  sacrifice  as  effecting  man’s  restoration  to  union 
with  God,  and  also  as  expiating  his  guilt  by  suffering,  correspond 
to  what  the  human  conscience,  when  deeply  and  sincerely  inves- 


236  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

tigated,  declares  to  be  its  inmost  secret.  Every  man  who  has 
once  realized  sin,  can  also  realize  the  feelings  of  the  Jew  who 
longed  to  make  an  expiation  for  the  guilt  of  the  past,  to  suffer 
some  loss,  some  penalty  that  would  cover  his  sin,  and  who  there¬ 
fore  brought  his  offering  before  God,  made  the  unconscious  victim 
his  representative,  the  bearer  of  his  guilt,  and  by  slaying  it  strove 
to  make  atonement.  We  feel  the  same  need,  the  same  longing. 
This  load  of  guilt  has  to  be  laid  down  somehow  :  this  past  sinful¬ 
ness  must  meet  with  a  punishment  which  will  make  expiation  for 
it :  before  this  lost  union  with  God  can  be  restored  we  must  be 
assured  of  pardon,  must  know  that  the  wrath  of  God  no  longer 
abides  on  us,  but  has  been  turned  away,  and  finds  no  longer  in 
us  the  sin  which  is  the  one  obstacle  to  the  free  course  of  Divine 
love.  And  then  we  know  further  that  bitter  truth  which  came  to 
the  loftiest  minds  among  the  Jews,  that  no  sacrifice  of  ours  can 
have  atoning  value,  for  God  demands  the  offering  of  ourselves, 
and  we  are  so  weakened  by  sin  that  we  cannot  give  ourselves  up 
to  Him,  so  polluted  by  sin  that  the  sacrifice  is  worthless  in  His 
eyes.  In  order  to  atone,  sacrifice  must  be  no  outward  ceremony, 
the  offering  of  this  or  that  possession,  the  fulfilment  of  this  or  that 
externally  imposed  ordinance,  but  the  entire  surrender  of  self  to 
God,  and  to  His  law,  a  surrender  dictated  from  within  by  the  free 
impulse  of  the  will.  Therefore,  just  as  the  spiritually  minded  Jew 
felt  the  continual  discrepancy  between  the  external  ceremonies 
which  he  was  bound  to  fulfil,  and  the  complete  submission  to  the 
will  of  God  which  they  could  not  effect,  and  without  which  they 
were  wholly  inadequate,  so  every  awakened  conscience  must  feel 
the  fruitlessness  of  any  outward  expression  of  devotion  and  obedi¬ 
ence  so  long  as  there  is  no  complete  sacrifice  of  self. 

These,  then,  seem  to  be  the  conditions  which  must  be  satisfied 
before  an  atonement  can  meet  the  needs  of  the  human  heart  and 
conscience,  whether  these  are  inferred  from  an  examination  of  the 
Hebrew  religious  institutions  or  are  gathered  from  our  own 
knowledge  of  ourselves  and  of  others.  There  is,  first  of  all,  the 
consciousness  of  guilt,  of  an  offended  God,  of  a  law  transgressed, 
of  punishment  impending,  to  expiate  which  some  sacrifice  is  neces¬ 
sary,  but  no  sacrifice  adequate  to  which  can  be  offered  by  us  as  we 
are.  Propitiation  is  the  first  demand  of  the  law,  and  we  cannot, 
of  ourselves,  propitiate  Him  whose  anger  we  have  righteously 
incurred.  Secondly,  we  long  for  an  abiding  union  with  Him,  and 
for  the  full  bestowal  of  the  Divine  life  which  results  from  that  union 
alone.  Propitiation  is  not  enough  by  itself,  though  propitiation  is 
the  necessary  first  step  in  the  process  of  reconciliation.  Aliens  by 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


237 

our  own  sinful  acts,  and  by  the  sin  of  our  forefathers,  from  the  life 
of  God,  we  yet  long  to  return  and  to  live  once  more  in  Him.  But 
this  is  equally  impossible  for  us  to  accomplish  of  ourselves.  By 
sin  we  have  exiled  ourselves,  but  we  cannot  return  by  mere  force 
of  will.  Both  as  propitiation,  therefore,  and  as  reunion,  the  Atone¬ 
ment  must  come  from  without,  and  cannot  be  accomplished  by 
those  who  themselves  have  need  of  it.  But  there  is  a  third  con¬ 
dition,  apparently  irreconcilable  with  the  other  two.  This  same 
consciousness  of  guilt  which  demands  an  expiation  demands  that 
it  shall  be  personal,  the  satisfaction  of  the  sense  of  personal  respon¬ 
sibility,  and  of  the  unconquerable  conviction  of  our  own  freedom. 
The  propitiatory  sacrifice  which  is  to  effect  our  reunion  must,  for 
we  are  powerless  to  offer  it,  come  from  without :  but  at  the  same 
time  we  cannot  but  feel  that  it  must  come  into  contact  with  the 
will,  it  must  be  the  inward  sacrifice,  the  free-will  offering,  of  the 
whole  nature  that  has  sinned. 

II.  If  the  redemptive  work  of  Christ  satisfies  these  conditions 
it  is  evident  that  it  is  not  a  simple,  but  a  very  complex  fact.  The 
fault  of  many  of  the  theories  of  the  Atonement  has  been  that, 
though  none  of  them  failed  to  be  partially  true,  they  were  limited 
to  one  or  other  of  the  various  aspects  which  that  mysterious  fact 
presents.  It  is  certain,  again,  that  of  this  complex  fact  no  ade¬ 
quate  explanation  can  be  given.  At  every  stage  in  the  process 
which  is  generally  summed  up  in  the  one  word  Atonement  we  are 
in  presence  of  forces  which  issue  from  infinity  and  pass  out  of  our 
sight  even  while  we  are  contemplating  their  effects.  And  even  if 
the  Atonement  could  be  altogether  reduced,  so  to  speak,  to  terms 
of  human  experience,  it  will  be  shown  that  man’s  forgiveness,  the 
nearest  analogy  of  which  we  have  any  knowledge,  is  an  experience 
of  which  no  logical  explanation  can  be  given,  which  seems  to  share, 
indeed,  something  of  the  mystery  of  its  Divine  antitype.  But  though 
it  is  almost  blasphemous  to  pretend  to  fathom  the  depth  of  the  Atone¬ 
ment,  to  lay  out  the  whole  truth  so  as  to  satisfy  the  formulae  of 
human  reason,  it  is  necessary  so  to  understand  it  as  to  discern  its 
response  to  the  imperative  demands  of  the  sense  of  sin  and  the 
desire  for  forgiveness.  Whatever  the  ultimate  mysteries  of  the 
death  of  Christ  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  it  has  had  power  to 
convince  men  of  forgiveness  and  to  give  them  a  new  life.  It  must 
therefore  in  some  way  satisfy  the  conditions  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  are  laid  down  by  human  consciousness  and  experience.  It 
is  under  the  threefold  aspect  required  by  those  conditions  that  the 
doctrine  of  the  Atonement  will  be  here  presented. 

1.  The  death  of  Christ  is,  in  the  first  place,  to  be  regarded  as 


238 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


propitiatory.  On  the  one  hand  there  is  man’s  desire,  natural  and 
almost  instinctive,  to  make  expiation  for  his  guilt :  on  the  other 
there  is  the  tremendous  fact  of  the  wrath  of  God  against  sin.  The 
death  of  Christ  is  the  expiation  for  those  past  sins  which  have  laid 
the  burden  of  guilt  upon  the  human  soul,  and  it  is  also  the  propi¬ 
tiation  of  the  wrath  of  God.  As  we  have  seen,  over  against  the 
sense  of  sin  and  of  liability  to  the  Divine  wrath  there  has  always 
existed  the  idea  of  sacrifice  by  which  that  wrath  might  be  averted. 
Man  could  not  offer  an  acceptable  sacrifice  :  it  has  been  offered  for 
him  by  Christ.  That  is  the  simplest,  and  it  would  seem  the  most 
scriptural  way  of  stating  the  central  truth,  which  is  also  the  deepest 
mystery  of  the  Atonement,  and  it  seems  to  sum  up  and  include  the 
various  other  metaphors  and  descriptions  of  the  redemptive  work 
of  Christ.  But  its  mere  statement  at  once  suggests  questions,  the 
consideration  of  which  will  lead  to  a  fuller  understanding  of  the 
doctrine.  Thus  we  have  to  ask,  What  is  it  which  is  propitiated  by 
Christ’s  death?  In  other  words,  What  is  meant  by  the  wrath  of 
God  against  sin  ? 

( ci )  It  should  be  remembered  that  though  there  is  great  danger 
in  anthropomorphism,  and  though  most  of  the  superstition  which  has 
ever  been  the  shadow  cast  by  religion  on  the  world  has  arisen  from 
an  exaggerated  conception  of  the  likeness  of  God  to  ourselves,  yet 
there  is,  after  all,  no  other  way  of  knowing  God  than  by  represent¬ 
ing  Him  under  conceptions  formed  by  our  own  consciousness  and 
experience,  and  this  method  is  pre-eminently  incumbent  upon  us 
who  believe  that  man  is  made  ‘in  the  image  of  God.’  We  are 
certain,  for  instance,  that  love,  pity,  justice,  are  affections  which, 
however  imperfectly  they  may  be  found  in  us,  do  make  for 
goodness,  and  if  we  may  not  ascribe  these  same  affections,  infin¬ 
itely  raised  and  purified,  to  God,  we  have  no  means  of  conceiving 
His  character,  of  knowing  ‘  with  Whom  we  have  to  deal.’ 

Our  knowledge,  even  of  ourselves,  is  after  all  fragmentary,1  and 
thus  truths  of  whose  certainty  we  are  convinced  may  seem  irre¬ 
concilably  opposed  to  each  other.  Our  conception  of  love,  for 
example,  is  a  fragment,  and  we  cannot  trace  it  up  to  the  meeting- 
point  at  which  it  is  reconciled  with  justice,  so  that  in  our  moral 
judgments  we  are  continually  oscillating,  as  it  were,  between  the 
two.  But  this  fact  should  not  hinder  us  from  ascribing  to  God  in 

1  Cf.  Mozley,  University  Sermons,  p.  177  (2d  ed.)  :  ‘  Justice  is  a  fragment, 
mercy  is  a  fragment,  mediation  is  a  fragment ;  justice,  mercy,  mediation  as  a 
reason  of  mercy, —  all  three  ;  what  indeed  are  they  but  great  vistas  and  open¬ 
ings  into  an  invisible  world  in  which  is  the  point  of  view  which  brings  them 
all  together  ? 1 


vii.  The  Atonement . 


239 


their  fullest  degree  both  love  and  justice,  confident  that  in  Him 
they  are  harmonized  because  we  are  confident  from  the  verdict  of 
our  own  consciences  that  both  are  good,  and  because  even  in  such 
imperfect  reflections  of  His  image  as,  for  instance,  parental  love, 
we  see  at  least  a  partial  harmony  of  them.  When  then  a  doubt  arises 
as  to  the  literal  explanation  of  the  phrase  ‘  the  wrath  of  God,  ’  the 
difficulty  must  not  be  met  by  the  simple  assertion  that  we  cannot 
reconcile  the  idea  of  wrath  with  that  of  the  love  of  God ;  we  must 
ask  whether  wrath,  as  it  exists  in  us,  is  a  good  and  righteous  affec¬ 
tion,  or  whether  it  is  always  and  entirely  evil.  To  this  question 
there  can  be  but  one  answer.  We  are  conscious  of  a  righteous 
anger,  of  an  affection  of  displeasure  that  a  good  man  ought  to  feel 
against  sin  and  evil,  and  this  is  amply  justified  by  the  scriptural 
references  to  righteous  anger,  and  by  the  accounts  of  our  Lord’s 
displays  of  indignation  against  evil.  But  though  we  are  thus  com¬ 
pelled  to  find  room,  so  to  speak,  for  anger  in  our  conception  of 
God’s  character,  it  is  not  therefore  necessary  to  ascribe  to  Him  that 
disturbance  of  the  spiritual  nature,  or  that  change  in  the  direction 
of  the  will,  which  are  almost  invariable  accompaniments  of  human 
anger.  These  are  the  defects  of  the  human  affection,  from  which 
arises  the  sinful  tendency  in  our  anger,  and  which  cannot  be  thought 
of  in  connection  with  the  all-holy  and  all-wise  God.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  is  not  possible  to  limit  the  conception  of  the  ‘  wrath  of 
God  ’  to  the  acts  whereby  sin  is  or  will  be  punished,  which  was 
the  explanation  of  some  of  the  Fathers,  or  to  think  of  it  as  in  the 
future  only,  to  come  into  existence  only  on  the  day  of  judgment, 
as  has  been  attempted  by  some  modern  theologians.  The  scrip¬ 
tural  expressions,  including  as  we  must  the  passages  which  speak 
of  our  Lord’s  anger,  cannot  be  so  weakened.  ‘  The  wrath  of  God  ’ 
seems  to  denote  no  changeful  impulse  or  passing  feeling,  but  the 
fixed  and  necessary  hostility  of  the  Divine  Nature  to  sin  ;  and  the 
idea  must  further  include  the  manifestation  of  that  hostility,  when¬ 
ever  sin  comes  before  God,  in  external  acts  of  vengeance,  punish¬ 
ment,  and  destruction.  God’s  anger  is  not  only  the  displeasure  of 
an  offended  Person  :  it  is  possible  that  this  is  altogether  a  wrong 
conception  of  it :  it  must  be  further  the  expression  of  justice, 
which  not  only  hates  but  punishes.  The  relation  of  the  Divine 
Nature  to  sin  is  thus  twofold  :  it  is  the  personal  hostility,  if  we  may 
call  it  so,  of  holiness  to  sin,  and  it  is  also  the  righteousness  which 
punishes  sin  because  it  is  lawless.  The  two  ideas  are  intimately 
connected,  and  not  unfrequently,  when  we  should  have  expected 
to  find  in  the  Bible  the  wrath  of  God  spoken  of,  the  language  of 
judgment  and  righteousness  is  substituted  for  it.  Sin  is  necessa- 


240  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

rily  hateful  to  the  holiness  of  God,  but  also,  because  sin  is  lawless¬ 
ness,  it  is  judged,  condemned,  and  punished  by  Him  in  accord¬ 
ance  with  the  immutable  law  of  righteousness,  which  is  the  law  of 
His  own  Nature.  Therefore  to  turn  from  God’s  wrath  against  sin 
to  the  mode  in  which  that  wrath  may  be  averted,  it  results  that  the 
sacrifice  offered  for  sin  must  be  both  a  propitiation  and  a  satisfac¬ 
tion.  Anger,  so  we  think,  is  but  a  feeling,  and  may  be  ousted  by 
another  feeling ;  love  can  strive  against  wrath  and  overcome  it ;  the  - 
Divine  hatred  of  sin  need  raise  no  obstacle  to  the  free  forgiveness 
of  the  sinner.  So  we  might  think  ;  but  a  true  ethical  insight  shows 
us  that  this  affection  of  anger,  of  hatred,  is  in  reality  the  expression 
of  justice,  and  derives  from  the  law  of  righteousness,  which  is  not 
above  God,  nor  is  it  dependent  on  His  Will,  for  it  is  Himself. 

4  He  cannot  deny  Himself ;  *  He  cannot  put  away  His  wrath,  until 
the  demands  of  Law  have  been  satisfied,  until  the  sacrifice  has  been 
offered  to  expiate,  to  cover,  to  atone  for  the  sins  of  the  world. 
The  reconciliation  to  be  effected  is  not  merely  the  reconciliation  of 
man  to  God  by  the  change  wrought  in  man’s  rebellious  nature,  but 
it  is  also  the  propitiation  of  God  Himself,  whose  wrath  unappeased 
and  whose  justice  unsatisfied  are  the  barriers  thrown  across  the 
sinner’s  path  to  restoration. 

(f)  But  how,  we  ask  further,  was  this  propitiation  made  by  the 
Sacrifice  on  the  Cross?  Or,  to  put  the  question  rather  differently, 
what  was  it  that  gave  to  the  death  of  Christ  its  propitiatory  value  ? 
In  attempting  to  suggest  an  answer  to  this  question,  it  is  necessary 
to  bear  in  mind  the  distinction  between  the  actual  event,  or  series 
of  events,  which  constituted  the  Propitiatory  Sacrifice,  and  that  inner 
element  which  was  thereby  manifested,  and  which  gave  to  the 
actual  event  its  worth.  St.  Bernard  expressed  the  distinction  in 
the  well-known  words,  4  Not  His  death,  but  His  willing  acceptance 
of  death,  was  pleasing  to  God,’  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
throughout  the.  New  Testament  special  stress  is  laid  upon  the 
perfect  obedience  manifested  in  the  life  and  death  of  Christ,  upon 
the  accomplishment  of  His  Father’s  will  which  He  ever  kept  in 
view,  and  upon  the  contrast  thus  marked  between  the  Mosaic  sac¬ 
rifices  and  the  one  atoning  offering.  4  Sacrifices  and  offerings  and 
whole  burnt  offerings  and  sacrifices  for  sin  Thou  wouldest  not, 
neither  hadst  pleasure  therein  ;  .  .  .  then  hath  He  said,  Lo,  I  am 
come  to  do  Thy  will.  ’ 

That  the  perfect  obedience  displayed  in  the  passion  and  death 
of  our  Lord  was  the  element  which  gave  to  the  sacrifice  its  pro¬ 
pitiatory  value  will  be  more  readily  understood  when  it  is  remem¬ 
bered  that  the  essence  of  man’s  sin  was  from  the  first  disobedience, 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


241 


the  rebellion  of  the  human  will  against  the  commands  of  God.  The 
perfect  sacrifice  was  offered  by  One  Who,  being  man  with  all  man’s 
liability  to  temptation,  that  is,  with  all  the  instruments  of  sin  at  His 
disposal,  and  exposed  to  every  suggestion  to  set  up  His  will  against 
that  of  the  Father,  yet  throughout  His  life  continued  unswervingly 
bent  on  doing  ‘  not  His  own  will,  but  the  will  of  the  Father,  Who  sent 
Him,’  and  Who  thus  displayed  the  original  perfection  of  human 
nature,  the  unbroken  union  with  the  life  of  God.  On  the  cross  the 
final  struggle,  the  supreme  temptation,  took  place.  The  obedience 
shown  throughout  His  life  was  there  manifested  in  death.  ‘  He 
became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross.’  At  every 
moment  of  the  passion  there  might  have  been  a  refusal  to  undergo 
the  shame  and  the  torture  of  body  and  spirit.  At  any  stage 
during  the  long  struggle,  He  might  have  ended  it  all  by  a  single 
acquiescence  in  evil,  a  single  submission  to  the  law  of  unrighteous¬ 
ness.  At  each  moment,  therefore,  His  will  was  exerted  to  keep 
itself  in  union  with  the  will  of  God  ;  it  was  not  a  mere  submission  at 
the  outset  once  for  all,  but  a  continuous  series  of  voluntary  acts  of 
resignation  and  obedience.  Here  then  is  the  spirit  of  sacrifice 
which  God  demands,  and  which  could  not  be  found  in  the  sacri¬ 
fices  of  the  Mosaic  law,  or  in  any  offering  of  sinful  man.  The 
essence  of  the  Atonement  was  the  mind  of  Christ  therein  displayed, 
the  obedience  gradually  learnt  and  therein  perfected,  the  will  of 
Christ  therein  proved  to  be  one  with  the  Father’s  will. 

But  we  may  discern  a  further  element  of  propitiation  in  the  death 
of  our  Lord.  The  law  of  righteousness,  the  justice  of  God, 
demands  not  only  obedience  in  the  present,  but  vengeance  for  the 
past.  ‘  The  sins  done  aforetime  ’  had  been  ‘  passed  over  in  the 
forbearance  of  God  ’  for  His  own  purposes,  which  are  not  revealed 
to  us  :  this  ‘  passing  over  ’  had  obscured  the  true  nature  of  sin  and  of 
the  Divine  justice.  Men  had  come  to  have  easy  thoughts  of  sin 
and  its  consequences ;  the  heathen  felt  but  vaguely  the  burden  of 
guilt,  the  Jew  trusted  in  the  mere  external  works  of  the  law.  In 
the  death  of  Christ  a  manifestation  was  made  of  the  righteousness 
of  God,  of  His  wrath,  the  absolute  hostility  of  His  nature  to  sin. 
1  God  set  Him  forth  to  be  a  propitiation,  through  faith,  by  His 
blood,  to  show  His  righteousness,  because  of  the  passing  over  of 
the  sins  done  aforetime,  in  the  forbearance  of  God.’  But  this 
manifestation  of  Divine  justice  might  have  been  made  by  mere 
punishment :  it  became  a  propitiation,  in  that  He,  the  self-chosen 
victim,  by  His  acceptance  of  it,  recognized  the  righteousness  of  the 
law  which  was  vindicated  on  the  cross.  Men  had  refused  to 
acknowledge  God’s  justice  in  the  consequences  of  sin  ;  nothing 

16 


242  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

but  the  willing  acceptance  of  suffering,  as  the  due  portion  of  the 
human  nature  in  which  the  sin  was  wrought,  could  have  so  declared 
the  justice  of  God’s  law  as  to  be  a  propitiation  of  Divine  wrath. 
The  cross  was,  on  the  one  hand,  the  proclamation  of  God’s  ordi¬ 
nance  against  sin,  on  the  other  it  was  the  response  of  man  at  length 
acknowledging  the  righteousness  of  the  condemnation.1 

But  on  looking  more  closely  into  the  matter,  it  is  obvious  that 
these  explanations  are  not  by  themselves  enough  to  account  for 
the  scriptural  facts  which  we  call  the  Atonement.  We  cannot 
ignore  that,  whether  we  consider  the  Old  Testament  anticipations 
or  the  New  Testament  narrative  of  our  Lord’s  work,  His  death, 
apart  from  the  obedience  manifested  in  it,  occupies  a  unique  place, 
and  that  stress  is  laid  on  it  which  would  be  unaccountable  were  it 
only  the  extreme  trial  of  His  obedience.  The  frequent  declaration 
that  it  was  necessary,  that  ‘  it  behooved  Christ  to  die,’  seems  to 
point  to  something  exceptional  in  it,  something  more  than  the 
mere  close  of  His  spotless  life.  So  again  the  mysterious  dread 
and  horror  with  which  He  looked  forward  to  it  testify  to  something 
in  it  which  goes  far  beyond  any  human  experience  of  death.2  And 
what  we  gather  from  the  New  Testament  must  be  combined  with 
the  Old  Testament  premonitions  of  Christ’s  death,  as  typified  by 
the  Mosaic  sacrifices.  There  can  be  no  question  that  death  was, 
speaking  generally,  an  integral  part  of  the  idea  of  sacrifice  for  sin, 
and  that  the  distinguishing  ceremonial  of  the  slaying  of  the  victim 
points  to  a  special  significance  in  death  as  connected  with  expi¬ 
ation  and  propitiation.  Therefore,  although  we  may  still  recognize 
that  it  was  the  spirit  of  obedience  and  voluntary  submission  which 
gave  atoning  value  to  the  death  of  Christ,  we  cannot  ignore  the 
necessity  of  death  as  the  appointed  form  which  the  obedience  took. 
Had  He  not  obeyed,  He  would  not  have  atoned  ;  but  had  He  not 
died,  the  obedience  would  have  lacked  just  that  element  which 
made  it  an  atonement  for  sin.  The  obedience  was  intended  to  issue 
in  death.  St.  Bernard’s  saying,  though  true  as  he  meant  it,  is,  if 
taken  quite  literally,  too  sharp  an  antithesis.  There  is  nothing 

1  Cf.  McLeod  Campbell,  ‘  The  Nature  of  the  Atonement/  pp.  1 17,  1 18, 1 19, 
I27>  347  :  ‘  That  oneness  of  mind  with  the  Father,  which  towards  man  took 
the  form  of  condemnation  of  sin,  would  in  the  Son’s  dealing  with  the  Father 
in  relation  to  our  sins  take  the  form  of  a  perfect  confession  of  our  sins.  This 
confession,  as  to  its  own  nature,  must  have  been  a  perfect  Ame7i  in  humanity 
to  the  udgment  of  God  on  the  sin  of  man.'  ‘  In  Christ  tasting  death  [as]  the 
wages  of  sin  .  .  .  was  a  perfecting  of  the  Divine  response  in  humanity  to  the 
Divine  condemnation  of  sin.’ 

*  See  Dale,  Atonement,  pp.  49  ff. ;  Schmidt  in  Herzog’s  Real  Encykl., 
xvi.  403. 


vii.  The  Atonement . 


243 


well-pleasing  to  God  in  death  alone,  it  is  true ;  but  there  is,  so  He 
has  revealed  it,  something  well-pleasing  to  His  righteousness, 
something  propitiatory  in  death,  if  as  a  further  condition  the 
perfect  obedience  of  the  victim  is  thereby  displayed. 

We  are  driven  to  the  same  conclusion  by  the  second  explanation 
of  our  Lord’s  sacrifice  given  above.  It  is  not  enough  to  say  that 
He  died  in  order  to  manifest  God’s  righteous  judgment  against 
sin,  for  the  question  remains,  Why  is  death  the  requisite  manifesta¬ 
tion  of  judgment?  If  He  endured  it  because  it  is  the  only  fitting 
punishment,  why  is  it  in  such  a  signal  manner  the  penalty  of  sin  ? 
We  can  point,  indeed,  to  the  Divine  principle  :  4  The  soul  that 
sinneth,  it  shall  die,’  as  we  can  point  to  God’s  declared  will  that  ex¬ 
piation  shall  be  made  by  means  of  death ;  but  in  neither  case, 
whether  death  be  looked  upon  as  the  punishment  or  as  the  expia¬ 
tion  of  sin,  is  there  any  explanation  of  its  unique  position.  It  may 
well  be  that  here  we  are  confronted  by  the  final  mystery,  and  that 
the  propitiatory  virtue  of  Christ's  death,  typified  by  the  slaying  of 
animal  victims  under  the  law,  foreshadowed  by  the  almost  univer¬ 
sal  belief  in  the  expiation  of  blood,  acknowledged  with  wonder¬ 
ing  gratitude  by  the  human  heart,  depends  upon  the  unsearchable 
will  and  hidden  purposes  of  God,  except  in  so  far  as  we  can  see  in 
it  the  manifestation  at  once  of  Christ’s  perfect  obedience  and  of 
the  righteousness  of  Divine  judgment.  If  an  attempt  is  made  to 
penetrate  further  into  the  mystery  of  Redemption,  it  can  be  but 
a  speculation,  but  it  will  be  saved  from  overboldness  if  it  follows 
the  general  lines  of  God’s  action  as  revealed  in  His  Word. 

Some  light  may  be  thrown  upon  the  mystery  of  Christ’s  death 
by  considering  the  scriptural  view  of  death  in  general  as  the 
penalty  of  sin.  It  is  not  the  mere  physical  act  of  dying,  for  that, 
as  St.  Athanasius  says,  is  natural  to  man,1  and  can  be  traced  in  the 
animal  world  in  the  ages  before  man  existed.  Besides,  our  Lord 
is  said  to  have  delivered  us  from  death,  and  this  clearly  cannot 
mean  physical  death,  since  to  this  all  men  are  still  subject,  but 
rather  spiritual  death ;  and  the  death  which  is  spoken  of  as  the 
penalty  of  sin  must  therefore  also  be  spiritual.  In  this  sense  death 
can  be  no  other  than  the  final  removal  from  us  of  God’s  presence, 
the  completion  of  the  alienation  from  the  Divine  life  which  sin 
began.  But,  considering  the  close  connection  throughout  the 

1  De  Incarn.  Verbi,  4:  ‘Man  is  by  nature  mortal.’  St.  Athanasius  held, 
however,  that  this  ‘  natural  corruption  ’  would  have  been  suspended,  but  for 
the  Fall,  by  the  help  of  the  Logos  empowering  man  to  live  the  Divine  life. 
See  on  the  whole  subject  Gore,  The  Christian  Doctrine  of  Sin,  in  the 
Guardian,  March  27,  1889. 


244 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


Bible  of  physical  and  spiritual  death,  may  it  not  be  that  the  former 
is  more  than  the  symbol  and  type  of  the  latter,  that  it  is  actually 
its  consummation  ?  If,  again,  death  be  truly  represented  by  the 
Christian  consciousness  as  the  close  of  man’s  probation,  does  not 
this  also  point  to  its  being  the  moment  when  the  light  of  God’s 
presence,  the  strength  of  His  life,  is  finally  withdrawn  from  the 
impenitent  sinner,  and  the  spiritual  death,  which  is  the  one  essen¬ 
tial  punishment  of  sin,  falls  upon  him?  The  sentence  of  death, 
then,  under  which  the  whole  world  lay  apart  from  the  Atonement 1 
was  the  declaration  that  every  man  who  by  inheritance  and  by  his 
own  act  shared  in  Adam’s  sin,  should  at  the  moment  of  physical 
death  experience  also  the  full  measure  of  spiritual  death.  The 
common  lot  of  death  thus  involved  the  consciousness  of  separation 
from  the  life  of  God,  and  when  we  so  regard  it  we  can  understand 
something  of  the  horror  which  its  anticipation  brought  upon  the 
soul  of  the  Son  of  God.'2  He  must  pass  through  this  last  and  most 
awful  human  experience ;  not  only  because  it  was  human,  but 
because  by  the  victorious  endurance  of  it  alone  could  the  propiti¬ 
ation  be  accomplished.  The  thought  throws  light  upon  the  prom¬ 
inence  given  to  the  death  of  Christ,  upon  His  dread  of  it,  upon 
His  mysterious  cry  of  dereliction  upon  the  cross.  It  shows  us 
how,  though  the  experience  was  common  to  man,  yet  in  Him  it 
was  in  a  twofold  manner  unique.  The  withdrawal  of  God’s  pres¬ 
ence,  awful  as  it  is  to  the  sin-hardened  nature  of  man,  must  have 
been  immeasurably  more  bitter  to  Him  Who  was  One  with  the 
Father,  whose  ‘meat  was  to  do  the  will  of  His  Father.’  Just  as 
we  may  believe  the  tortures  of  the  cross  to  have  been  specially 
grievous  to  the  perfect  body  which  was  unstained  by  sin,  though 
other  men  have  endured  them  ;  so,  though  all  have  to  pass  through 
death  with  its  accompanying  terror  of  the  loss  of  God’s  presence, 
none  can  realize  what  that  experience  was  to  Him,  because  He 
was  the  Son  of  God.  The  death  of  Christ  was  therefore  unique 
because  of  the  nature  of  Him  Who  underwent  it.  But  it  was  also 
unique  in  its  results.  No  other  death  had  been  a  propitiation  for 
sin,  for  in  no  other  death  had  this  overwhelming  consciousness  of 
dereliction  been  endured  victoriously,  with  no  failure  of  perfect 
obedience,  no  shrinking  of  the  will  from  the  ordained  task.  In 
this  final  experience  the  offering  was  complete,  the  essence  of  the 
propitiation  was  secured,  for  the  actual  result  of  all  human  sin  was 

1  It  should  be  remembered  that  the  Church  has  always  regarded  the 
Atonement  as  having  a  retrospective  effect,  extending  back  to  the  first  repre¬ 
sentatives  of  the  human  race. 

2  Cf.  Schmidt,  in  Herzog’s  Real.  Encykl.,  Art.  Versonung,  xvi.  403. 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


245 


herein  made  the  very  revelation  of  holiness  itself,  the  means 
whereby  the  union  with  the  will  of  God,  so  far  from  being  finally 
broken,  was  finally  perfected.  The  propitiatory  value,  therefore,  of 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ  lay  in  His  absolute  obedience,  in  His  willing 
acceptance  of  suffering,  which  was  thereby  acknowledged  as  the  due 
reward  of  sin,  and  in  the  death  which  was  the  essential  form  of 
both,  —  for  death  is  the  culminating  point  of  the  alienation  from  God, 
which  is  both  sin  and  its  punishment.  He  alone  endured  it  victori¬ 
ously  and  without  sin  ;  He  alone,  therefore,  transformed  it  from  the 
sign  and  occasion  of  God’s  wrath  into  a  well-pleasing  offering  ;  He 
took  the  punishment  and  made  it  a  propitiation.  ‘  The  chastisement 
of  our  peace  was  upon  Him  :  and  with  His  stripes  we  are  healed.’ 

(c)  So  far  we  have  considered  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  in  its  aspect 
Godwards  ;  we  have  tried  to  find  an  answer  to  the  question,  How 
did  the  death  of  Christ  propitiate  the  wrath  of  God?  There 
remains  the  further  question,  How  was  it  a  sacrifice  for  us?  It 
was,  we  can  see,  a  perfect  offering  acceptable  to  God  ;  but  how 
has  it  availed  ‘  for  us  men  ’  ?  The  mind  shrinks  from  a  purely 
external  Atonement,  and  part  of  the  imperfection  of  the  Mosaic 
sacrifices  consisted  in  the  merely  artificial  relation  between  the 
offender  and  the  victim.  In  the  perfect  sacrifice  this  relation 
must  be  real ;  and  we  are  thus  led  to  the  truth,  so  often  over¬ 
looked,  but  impressed  on  every  page  of  the  New  Testament,  that 
He  who  died  for  our  sins  was  our  true  representative  in  that  He 
was  truly  man.  Without  for  the  present  going  into  the  more 
mystical  doctrine  of  Christ  as  the  second  Adam,  the  spiritual  head 
of  our  race,  what  is  here  emphasized  is  the  reality  and  perfection 
of  His  human  nature,  which  gave  Him  the  right  to  offer  a  repre¬ 
sentative  sacrifice.1  ‘  For  verily  not  of  angels  doth  He  take  hold, 
but  He  taketh  hold  of  the  seed  of  Abraham.  Wherefore  it  behooved 
Him  in  all  things  to  be  made  like  unto  His  brethren,  that  He 
might  be  a  merciful  and  faithful  High  Priest  in  things  pertaining  to 
God,  to  make  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  the  people.’  Being  thus 
‘  taken  from  among  men,’  He  was  ‘  appointed  for,  or  on  behalf  of, 
men  ;  ’  and  the  justification  of  His  Priesthood  is  the  complete 
reality  of  His  humanity,  which,  if  we  may  so  speak,  overlay  and 
hid  His  Divinity,  so  that  Though  He  was  a  Son,’  unchangeably  ‘  in 

1  Irenaeus  is  full  of  this  thought,  though  it  is  not  disentangled  from  other 
explanations  of  the  death  of  Christ.  Cf.  especially,  V.  xxiii.  2  :  ‘  Recapitu- 
lans  enim  universum  hominem  in  se  ab  initio  usque  ad  finem.  recapitulatus  et 
mortem  ejus.  Cf.  also  Athanasius,  de  Incarn.  Verbi,  q,  in  which  he  suggests 
that  it  was  the  Divine  power  of  the  Logos  in  the  bodily  nature  of  ChrisVthat 
made  His  sacrifice  representative,  as  well  as  His  death  victorious  over  death. 


246  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

the  form  of  God,’  4  yet  learnt  He  obedience  by  the  things  which 
He  suffered/  and  thus  became  for  us  a  perfect  Priest.  The  sinless 
perfection  of  Christ,  far  from  removing  Him  out  of  the  sphere  of 
our  sinful  lives,  made  Him  perfectly  representative ;  for  He  not 
only  possessed  in  their  greatest  perfection  all  the  powers  and 
capacities  which  are  the  instruments  of  sin,  but  in  the  strength  of 
His  sinlessness  and  of  His  love  He  could  feel  for  all  men  and 
accept  them  as  His  brethren,  though  they  were  sinners.  Our 
High  Priest  ‘  hath  been  in  all  points  like  as  we  are,  yet  without 
sin.’  The  holiest  man  has  some  part  of  his  nature  stunted  and 
repressed  by  sin,  and  is  so  far  incomplete,  unrepresentative ;  but 
He,  unweakened  and  unmarred  in  any  point  by  sin,  can  without 
holding  anything  back  represent  human  nature  in  its  perfection 
and  entirety. 

The  representative  character  of  Christ  is  manifested  in  a  different 
aspect,  according  as  He  is  regarded  as  the  victim  or  as  the  priest 
offering  the  sacrifice.  As  the  victim  He  must  be  the  sin-bearer, 
for  the  transfer  of  guilt  —  which  under  the  Mosaic  system  was 
merely  symbolized  by  the  act  of  laying  hands  on  the  victim’s 
head  —  must  for  a  true  propitiatory  sacrifice  be  more  than  external 
and  artificial.  That  is  to  say,  there  must  be  a  real  meaning  in  St. 
Paul’s  tremendous  words,  4  Him  Who  knew  no  sin  He  made  to  be 
sin  on  our  behalf/  in  the  passages  in  which  He  is  described  as 
bearing  our  sins,1  in  the  great  prophecy  which  told  that  4  the  Lord 
hath  laid  on  Him  the  iniquity  of  us  all/  How  can  we  find  an 
explanation  of  the  paradox  so  boldly  stated  by  St.  Paul,  that  He 
who  knew  no  sin  was  yet  made  sin?  We  may  not  surely  take  all 
these  plain  phrases  to  mean  that  He  bore  the  punishment  of  our 
sins  ;  it  would  have  been  easy  to  say  that,  had  it  been  meant.  No, 
the  relation  typified  by  the  Mosaic  offerings  must  be  real,  and  yet 
the  expression  4  He  made  Him  to  be  sin  ’  cannot  without  blasphemy 
be  understood  to  mean  that  God  the  Father  actually  made  His 
Son  to  sin.  The  solution  of  the  difficulty  can  only  be  found  in 
the  truth  of  the  Incarnation.  In  order  that  the  sacrifice  might  be 
representative,  He  took  upon  Him  the  whole  of  our  human  nature, 
and  became  flesh,  conditioned  though  that  fleshly  nature  was 
throughout  by  sin.2  It  was  not  only  in  His  death  that  we  contem¬ 
plate  Him  as  the  sin-bearer,  but  throughout  His  life  He  was,  as  it 

1  See  especially  Heb.  ix.  28,  which  is  an  echo  of  the  LXX.  of  Is.  liii.  12. 

2  Athan.,  c.  Ar.,  i.  43 :  4  He  put  on  the  flesh  which  was  enslaved  to  sin.’ 
Cf.  also  Augustine,  de  Musica,  VI.  iv  :  ‘  Hominem  sine  peccato,.non  sine 
peccatoris  conditione  suscepit.  Nam  et  nasci  humanitus,  et  pati  et  mori 
voluit/  I  owe  this  reference  to  Norris,  Rudiments  of  Theology,  p.  61  n. 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


24  7 


were,  conditioned  by  the  inherent  sinfulness  of  humanity.  The 
Crucifixion  does  not  come  as  the  unexpectedly  shameful  end  of  a 
glorious  and  untroubled  life,  though  it  was  undoubtedly  in  a 
special  sense  the  manifestation  of  the  ‘  curse  ’  under  which  He 
laid  Himself.  We  cannot  say  that  at  a  given  moment  in  His  life, 
as  when  the  sinner’s  hands  were  laid  upon  the  victim’s  head  and 
his  guilt  was  transferred,  He  began  to  bear  our  iniquity,  for  the 
very  nature  which  He  took,  freed  though  it  was  in  Him  from 
hereditary  guilt,  was  in  itself,  by  its  necessary  human  relations, 
sin-bearing.  Nor  did  His  personal  sinlessness  make  this  impossible 
or  unreal ;  rather  it  intensified  it.  As  St.  Matthew  tells  us,  even 
in  relation  to  bodily  sickness  and  infirmity,  that  He  bore  what  He 
took  away,  —  ‘  Himself  took  our  infirmities,  and  bare  our  diseases,’ 
—  so  it  was  with  our  redemption  from  sin.  In  taking  it  away,  He 
had  to  bear  its  weight,  intensified  by  reason  of  that  very  self- 
sacrificing  love  which  made  Him  realize  with  more  than  human 
keenness  the  sinfulness  of  the  human  nature  into  which  He  had 
come.  There  is  thus  nothing  artificial  or  external  in  His  sin-bearing, 
for  His  human  nature  was  so  real  and  so  perfect  that  He  was 
involved,  so  to  speak,  in  all  the  consequences  of  the  sin  which  is  so 
tremendous  a  factor  in  human  life,  even  to  the  enduring  of  the  very 
sufferings  and  death  which  in  us  are  the  penal  results  and  final  out¬ 
come  of  sin,  but  in  Him  were  the  means  of  His  free  self-sacrifice. 

Once  more  He  was  our  representative  as  the  Priest  who  offered 
the  sacrifice.  The  requisite  conditions  of  such  an  office  are  stated, 
in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  to  be  complete  human  sympathy, 
and  yet  such  separateness  from  sin,  and  from  all  limitations  of 
incompleteness,  as  can  only  be  Divine.  ‘  It  behooved  Him  in  all 
things  to  be  made  like  unto  His  brethren,  that  He  might  be  a 
merciful  and  faithful  high  priest ;  ’  ‘  but  He,  because  He  abideth 
forever,  hath  His  priesthood  unchangeable  ...  for  such  a  high 
priest  became  us,  holy,  harmless,  undefiled,  separated  from  sinners, 
and  made  higher  than  the  heavens  ;  ’  ‘  for  the  law  appointed  men 
high  priests,  having  infirmity  ;  but  the  word  of  the  oath,  which 
was  after  the  law,  appointeth  a  Son,  perfected  for  evermore.’ 1  In 
these  and  similar  passages  the  doctrine  of  the  Priesthood  of  Christ 
is  developed,  and  it  is  obvious  that  quite  as  much  stress  is  laid  on 
His  unlikeness  as  on  His  likeness  to  us.2  He  is  our  representative 

1  Heb.  ii.  17  ;  vii.  24,  26,  28;  cf.  ix.  13,  14.  24,  25,  26;  x.  n,  12,  13.  14- 

2  Cf.  Athan.,  c.  Ar.,  ii.  69  ‘  He  sends  His  own  Son,  and  He  becomes  Son 
of  Man,  by  taking  created  flesh ;  that,  since  all  were  under  sentence  of  death. 
He,  being  other  than  them  all ,  might  Himself  for  all  offer  to  death  His  own 
body.’ 


248 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


as  Priest,  because  He  is  both  man  and  more  than  man,  and  can 
therefore  perform  for  us  what  we  could  not  and  cannot  perform  for 
ourselves,  in  offering  the  perfect  propitiatory  sacrifice.  Here  is 
the  true  vicariousness  of  the  Atonement,  which  consisted,  not,  as 
we  shall  see  later,  in  the  substitution  of  His  punishment  for  ours, 
but  in  His  offering  the  sacrifice  which  man  had  neither  purity  nor 
power  to  offer.  From  out  of  the  very  heart  and  centre  of  the 
human  nature  which  was  so  enslaved  and  corrupted  by  sin  that  no 
human  offering  was  acceptable  to  God,  there  is  raised  the  sinless 
sacrifice  of  perfect  humanity  by  the  God-Man,  our  great  High 
Priest :  human  in  the  completeness  of  His  sympathy,  Divine  in  the 
unique  power  of  His  Priesthood.  So  is  the  condition  of  the  law 
of  righteousness  fulfilled,  and  the  sacrifice  of  obedience  unto 
death  is  offered  by  His  submission  to  all  that  constitutes  in  sinners 
the  consummation  and  the  punishment  of  their  sin,  which  He 
transformed  into  the  occasion  and  the  manifestation  of  His  perfect 
holiness.  And  it  is  a  representative  sacrifice,  for  unique  though  it 
is,  it  consists  of  no  unheard-of  experience,  of  no  merely  symbolical 
ceremony,  unrelated  and  unmeaning  to  us ;  but  of  just  those  uni¬ 
versal  incidents  of  suffering  which,  though  He  must  have  felt  them 
with  a  bitterness  unknown  to  us,  are  intensely  human,  —  poverty, 
misunderstanding,  failure,  treachery,  rejection,  bodily  anguish, 
spiritual  desolation,  death.  ‘  Surely  He  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and 
carried  our  sorrows.  .  .  .  The  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon 
Him,’  and  therefore  ‘  by  His  stripes  we  are  healed.’ 

2.  It  is  not  enough  to  consider  the  death  of  Christ  only  as  pro¬ 
pitiatory,  or  as  standing  alone  in  relation  to  our  redemption.  We 
have  seen  how  it  secured  our  propitiation,  and  in  what  sense  it  has 
a  unique  place  in  relation  both  to  our  Lord  Himself  and  to  man. 
There  remains  the  further  aspect  of  His  redemptive  work,  in  which 
it  is  regarded  as  effecting  our  reunion  with  God,  by  delivering  us 
from  the  power  of  sin,  and  by  filling  us  with  the  Divine  gift  of 
life.  This,  it  should  be  noticed,  is  the  conception  of  our  Lord’s 
work  which  was  chiefly  in  the  minds  of  the  early  Christian  writers, 
though  in  almost  all  it  was  combined  with  the  acknowledgment  of 
His  deliverance  of  man  from  guilt  and  from  the  wrath  of  God  by 
His  representative  propitiation.1  But  to  their  consciousness  the 

1  The  two  aspects  of  the  Atonement  are  frequently  presented  by  St. 
Athanasius,  de  Incarn.  Verbi.  Thus  (ch.  10)  ‘  By  the  sacrifice  of  His  own 
Body  He  both  put  an  end  to  the  law  which  was  against  us,  and  gave  us  a  fresh 
beginning  of  life,  in  that  He  bestowed  on  us  the  hone  of  resurrection.’  Cf. 
also  chs.  8  and  9.  Again  (ch.  25),  ‘As  He  offered  His  Body  unto  death  for 
all ;  so  by  it  He  again  threw  open  the  way  to  heaven.’ 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


249 


power  of  sin  and  of  the  spiritual  forces  with  which  man  is  sur¬ 
rounded  was  so  continually  present  that  they  were  naturally 
inclined  to  look  mainly  at  that  side  of  the  Atonement  which  repre¬ 
sents  it  as  the  victory  over  sin  and  Satan  and  the  restoration  of 
man  to  the  life  of  God.  And  this  view,  though  by  no  means  to 
the  exclusion  of  the  propitiatory  aspect,  is  amply  justified  by  the 
Bible.  Considered  as  restoration,  there  seem  to  be  three  grades 
or  stages  of  redemption  indicated  in  the  New  Testament.  First, 
there  is  the  unanimous  declaration  that  the  object  of  our  Lord’s 
life  and  death  was  to  free  us  from  sin.  In  the  most  sacrificial 
descriptions  of  His  work  this  further  result  of  the  Atonement  is 
implied.  The  ‘  Lamb  of  God  ’  is  to  1  take  away  the  sin  of  the 
world ;  ’  His  Blood  was  to  be  ‘  shed  for  the  remission  of  sins by 
‘  the  precious  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  of  a  Lamb  without  blemish,’ 
men  were  ‘  redeemed  from  their  vain  conversation  ;  ’  He  ‘  gave 
Himself  for  us,  that  He  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity .’  In 
the  next  place,  this  deliverance  from  sin  is  identified  with  the  gift 
of  life,  which  is  repeatedly  connected  with  our  Lord’s  life  and 
death.  ‘  I  am  come  that  they  might  have  life  ;  ’  for  ‘  I  will  give 
My  flesh  for  the  life  of  the  world.’  ‘  He  died  for  all,  that  they 
which  live  should  not  henceforth  live  unto  themselves,  but  unto 
Him  Who  died  for  them  and  rose  again.’  He  ‘bare  our  sins  in 
His  own  body  on  the  tree,  that  we  being  dead  to  sins  might  live 
unto  righteousness.’  Lastly,  this  new  life  is  to  issue  in  union  with 
the  life  of  God  in  Christ.  ‘  Christ  suffered  for  sins,  the  just  for 
the  unjust,  that  He  might  bring  us  to  God.’  ‘In  Christ  Jesus  ye 
that  once  were  far  off  are  made  nigh  in  the  Blood  of  Christ.’  In 
such  passages  the  Apostles  are  only  drawing  out  the  meaning  of 
our  Lord’s  own  declaration,  ‘  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up,  will  draw  all  men 
unto  Me.’ 

Our  Lord’s  death  is  thus  intimately  connected  by  the  New  Tes¬ 
tament  writers  with  the  restoration  of  man  to  union  with  God  by 
means  of  the  gift  of  life  ;  but  it  should  be  noticed  that,  unique  and 
necessary  as  His  death  was,  it  is  continually  spoken  of  in  dose  con¬ 
nection  with  the  Resurrection  or  the  Ascension,  for  in  these,  as 
was  foreshadowed  by  the  typical  ceremonies  of  the  Law,  the  sacri¬ 
fice  culminated  by  the  presentation  of  the  ‘life  which  had  willingly 
passed  through  death  ’  before  the  altar  of  God’s  presence.  The 
reason  is  clear.  Pardon  for  the  past,  deliverance  from  guilt,  pro¬ 
pitiation  of  the  just  wrath  of  God,  are  necessary  and  all-important  ; 
but  they  cannot  stand  alone.  They  must,  for  man  is  helpless  and 
weak,  be  succeeded  by  the  gift  of  life,  and  for  this  we  must  look  to 
those  mighty  acts  in  which  the  One  Sacrifice  reached  its  full  con- 


250  The  Religion  of  the  hicarnation. 

summation.  Thus  our  Lord  Himself  declares  that  He  died  in 
order  to  rise  again  :  ‘  I  lay  down  My  life  that  [in  order  that]  I  may 
take  it  again.’  So  to  St.  Paul  the  Resurrection  is  the  necessary 
completion  of  the  process  which  was  begun  by  the  death.  ‘  He 
was  delivered  for  our  offences,  and  was  raised  again  for  our  justifi¬ 
cation.’  4  If  while  we  were  enemies,  we  were  reconciled  to  God 
through  the  death  of  His  Son,  much  more  being  reconciled,  shall 
TVebe  saved  through  [in]  His  life.’  ‘We  were  buried  with  Him 
through  baptism  unto  death ;  that  [in  order  that  ]  like  as  Christ 
was  raised  from  the  dead  through  the  glory  of  the  Father,  so  we 
also  might  waik  in  newness  of  life.’  Even  the  passages  which 
speak  of  our  salvation  as  effected  by  virtue  of  Christ’s  Blood,  refer, 
according  to  the  Jewish  conception  of  the  ‘  blood  which  is  the  life,’ 
not  only,  or  even  chiefly,  to  the  blood-shedding  in  death,  but  to  the 
heavenly  ‘  sprinkling  ’  of  the  principle  of  life,  its  presentation  in 
heaven  by  means  of  the  Resurrection  and  Ascension.  The  whole 
process  is  described  in  what  may  be  called  the  central  core  of  St. 
Paul’s  theology,  the  eighth  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans. 
‘  It  is  Christ  Jesus  that  died,  yea  rather,  that  was  raised  from  the 
dead,  Who  is  at  the  Right  Hand  of  God,  Who  also  maketh  interces¬ 
sion  for  us.’  It  has  been  the  fault  of  much  popular  theology  to 
think  only  of  our  deliverance  from  wrath  by  the  sacrificial  death  of 
Christ,  and  to  neglect  the  infinitely  important  continuation  of  the 
process  thus  begun.  The  Gospel  is  a  religion  of  life,  the  call  to  a 
life  of  union  with  God  by  means  of  the  grace  which  flows  from  the 
mediation  of  the  risen  and  ascended  Saviour.  We  need  not  discuss 
the  comparative  importance  of  the  two  aspects  of  the  work  of 
Atonement,  for  propitiation  and  reunion,  pardon  and  life,  are  alike 
necessary  elements  in  salvation,  and  by  the  love  of  God  in  Christ 
are  united  in  the  sacrifice  which  was  begun  on  Calvary,  and  is  for¬ 
ever  presented  for  our  redemption  before  the  throne  of  God  in 
heaven. 

3.  So  far  we  have  been  considering  the  Atonement  as  our  Lord’s 
work  on  behalf  of  men  :  we  have  now  to  consider  it  as  meeting  the 
inevitable  demand  of  the  human  conscience  that  this  vicarious  sacri¬ 
fice  shall  in  some  way  satisfy  man’s  sense  of  personal  responsibility ; 
that  by  means  of  the  Atonement  man  shall,  so  far  as  he  can,  make 
amends  for  his  own  sin.  The  charge  of  injustice,  as  it  is  generally 
urged  against  the  doctrine  of  the  Atonement,  rests,  as  will  be  shown, 
upon  a  fundamental  misconception  as  to  the  nature  of  Christ’s 
work  for  us ;  but  it  is  also  commonly  assumed  that  by  the  death 
of  Christ  all  was  done  for  man,  and  nothing  in  man,  so  that  we  are 
thereby  relieved  of  all  responsibility  for  our  own  wilful  acts.  It  is 


vii.  The  Atonement . 


251 


this  notion  that  we  have  now  to  investigate.  First,  however,  we 
must  acknowledge  the  truth  contained  in  it.  The  Atonement  is, 
after  all,  God’s  forgiveness  of  us  in  Christ,  and  no  forgiveness  is 
conceivable  which  does  not  in  some  degree  relieve  the  offender  of 
the  consequences  of  his  offence.  Human  forgiveness,  though  it 
may  in  some  cases,  perhaps,  remit  no  part  of  the  external  penalty 
due  to  wrong-doing,  must,  in  the  very  act  of  forgiving,  put  away 
and  abolish  the  anger  of  the  offended  person,  the  alienation  which 
the  offence  has  caused,  and  which  is  certainly  part,  sometimes  the 
greatest  part,  of  the  penal  consequences  of  an  offence.  Human 
forgiveness,  therefore,  necessarily  transgresses  the  strict  law  of  retri¬ 
bution  :  yet  no  one  can  seriously  contend  that  forgiveness  is  either 
impossible  or  immoral.  And  more  than  this,  there  is  even  in  our 
imperfect  forgiveness  a  power  to  blot  out  guilt,  and  to  restore  the 
offender  to  new  life.  Inexplicable  though  the  fact  may  be,  expe¬ 
rience  tells  us  that  forgiveness  avails  to  lift  the  load  of  guilt  that 
presses  upon  an  offender.  A  change  passes  over  him  that  can  only 
be  described  as  regenerative,  life-giving ;  and  thus  the  assurance 
of  pardon,  however  conveyed,  may  be  said  to  obliterate  in  some 
degree  the  consequences  of  the  past.1  It  is  true  that  this  result  of 
forgiveness  cannot  be  explained  logically  so  as  to  satisfy  the  reason, 
but  the  possibility  and  the  power  of  pardon  are  nevertheless  facts 
of  human  experience.  The  Atonement  is  undoubtedly  a  mystery, 
but  all  forgiveness  is  a  mystery.  The  Atonement  undoubtedly 
transgresses  the  strict  law  of  exact  retribution,  but  all  forgiveness 
transgresses  it.  And  we  may  believe  that  human  forgiveness  is,  in 
spite  of  all  its  imperfection,  like  that  of  God,  for  this  is  surely  the 
lesson  of  the  Lord’s  Prayer,  ‘  Forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as  we 
forgive  them  that  trespass  against  us.’  Experience  and  conscience, 
therefore,  lead  us  to  expect  that  the  Divine  method  of  forgiveness 
will  both  disprove  the  exaggerated  idea  of  personal  responsibility, 
which  is  based  on  a  false  estimate  of  man’s  power,  and  will  also 
transcend  reason  by  rising  into  a  region  of  mystery  and  of  miracle.2 
We  have  to  deal  in  this  sphere  of  pardon  with  a  God  Who  ‘  declares 
His  almighty  power  most  chiefly  in  showing  mercy  and  pity.’ 

One  aspect  of  this  mystery  is  to  be  found  in  the  truth,  stamped 
on  every  page  of  the  New  Testament,  of  the  mystical  union  be¬ 
tween  Christ  and  His  people.  By  virtue  of  this  union  His  acts  are 

1  Cf.  Westcott,  Historic  Faith,  p.  133. 

2  Cf.  Magee,  The  Gospel  and  the  Age,  pp.  270  ff.  Bishop  Magee,  however, 
seems  to  exaggerate  the  certainty  and  relentlessness  of  the  temporal  punish¬ 
ment  of  sin  (cf.  against  this  Dale,  The  Atonement,  Lect.  viii.),  and  to  over¬ 
look  the  force  of  the  analogy  from  human  experience  of  forgiveness. 


252 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


ascribed  to  us;  and  thus,  according  to  St.  Paul,  we  died  in  Him, 
we  are  raised  in  Him,  and  the  sacrifice  which  He  offered,  we  have 
also  offered,  as  in  Him.  The  doctrine  of  the  Second  Adam,  of 
the  spiritual  headship  of  Christ,  would  not  indeed,  if  it  stood  alone, 
satisfy  the  demands  of  the  conscience ;  but  when  taken  in  connec¬ 
tion  with  the  practical  sacramental  teaching  which  is  based  upon  it, 
it  points  to  the  solution  of  the  problem.  By  the  Incarnation  we 
are  taken  up  into  Him,  and  therefore  the  acts  that  in  His  human 
nature  He  performed  are  our  acts,  by  virtue  of  that  union  which  is 
described  by  Him  as  the  union  of  a  vine  with  its  branches,  by  St. 
Paul  as  that  of  the  head  with  the  members  of  a  body.  But  in  con¬ 
sidering  the  results  of  this  union,  the  reciprocal  communication 
of  the  weakness  of  our  bodily  nature  to  Him,  of  His  victorious 
deeds  in  the  body  to  us,  a  distinction  must  be  drawn  between 
that  part  of  His  work  which  can,  and  that  which  cannot,  be  shared 
by  us.  Of  one  part  of  His  work,  of  the  sacrifice  which  He  offered 
for  man’s  guilt,  the  essence  was  its  vicariousness.  Man  could  not 
and  never  can  offer  a  sacrifice  which  can  avail  to  propitiate  for  the 
sins  of  the  past.  It  is  only  in  virtue  of  that  one  final  and  perfect 
propitiation  that  we  can  draw  nigh  to  God,  can  accomplish  any¬ 
thing  good,  can  recognize  that  we  are  delivered  from  wrath.  The 
sins  of  the  past  are  cancelled,  the  guilt  is  wiped  out :  in  this  respect 
all  was  accomplished  by  Him  for  us  who  are  in  Him,  and  nothing 
remains  for  us  to  do.  He  as  our  Representative,  because  He 
shares  our  nature,  can  offer  for  us  a  prevailing  sacrifice  ;  only  as 
His  brethren,  because  He  has  united  us  to  Him,  are  we  enabled  to 
plead  the  sacrifice  which  He  offered.  It  is  indeed  offered  for  us, 
for  it  was  utterly  impossible  that  we  could  offer  it  for  ourselves  ;  it 
was  the  necessary  initial  step,  which  man  could  not  take,  towards 
union  with  the  righteous  Father.  As  our  spiritual  head,  the  second 
Adam,  the  Captain  of  our  salvation,  He  had  the  right  of  offering  on 
our  behalf ;  as  in  Him  by  virtue  of  the  Incarnation  we  are  empow¬ 
ered  to  claim  the  infinite  blessings  of  the  redemption  so  obtained.1 
If  this  is  mysterious,  irrational,  transcendental,  so  is  all  morality; 
for  at  the  root  of  all  morality  lies  the  power  of  self-sacrifice,  which 
is  nothing  but  the  impulse  of  love  to  make  a  vicarious  offering  for 
its  fellows,  and  the  virtue  of  such  an  offering  to  restore  and  to 
quicken.2  The  righteousness  of  God  required  from  the  human 

1  Cf.  Ath.,  c.  Ar.,  iii  34.  ‘  As  the  Lord  in  putting  on  the  body,  became  Man, 
so  we  men  are  made  gods  by  the  Word,  being  taken  into  Him  through  His 
Flesh,  and  from  henceforth  inherit  life  eternal.’ 

2  For  this  thought  fully  drawn  out,  see  Holland,  Creed  and  Character,  pp. 
212  ff. 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


253 


nature  which  had  sinned  the  sacrifice  of  a  perfect  obedience  mani¬ 
fested  in  and  through  death  :  that  is  the  unique  and  unapproach¬ 
able  mystery  of  the  Atonement ;  but  that  the  sacrifice  should  be 
offered  by  a  sinless  Man,  and  that  we  should  be  accepted  by  God 
in  virtue  of  His  propitiation  and  because  of  our  union  with  Him, 
that,  though  mysterious  enough,  as  human  reason  counts  mystery, 
is  prefigured  and  illustrated  and  explained  by  all  the  deepest  expe¬ 
riences  of  the  race,  by  all  that  is  most  human,  though  it  most 
evades  logical  analysis,  in  our  moral  consciousness.1 

There  is,  then,  no  additional  propitiation  demanded  from  us. 
The  Atonement,  in  this  aspect,  requires  nothing  from  us,  for  the 
forgiveness  is  there,  bestowed  upon  us  by  God  in  consequence  of 
the  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ.  But  like  the  gifts  of  grace  which 
come  after  forgiveness,  the  forgiveness  itself  has  to  be  personally 
accepted  by  us  ;  it  must  be  brought  into  contact  with  each  man’s 
will.  So  regarded,  the  Atonement,  though  the  great  gift  of  recon¬ 
ciliation  is  absolutely  free,  the  product  of  the  spontaneous  love  of 
God,  does  lay  upon  us  an  obligation.  On  our  part  faith  is  de¬ 
manded  that  we  may  realize,  and  appropriate,  and  associate  our¬ 
selves  with  the  pardon  which  is  ours  in  Christ.  This  is  not  the 
place  for  a  full  discussion  of  justifying  faith  ;  it  is  enough  to  indi¬ 
cate  what  seems  to  be  its  relation  to  the  Atonement,  as  being  man’s 
share  in  the  propitiatory  work  of  Christ.  It  is  often  said  that  the 
faith  which  justifies  is  simply  trust  ;2  but  it  must  surely  be  a  more 
complex  moral  act  than  this.  If  faith  is  the  acceptance  of  Christ’s 
propitiation,  it  must  contain,  in  the  first  place,  that  longing  for 
reconciliation  which  springs  from  the  personal  consciousness  of  sin 
as  alienation  from  God,  and  from  horror  of  its  guilt  and  power. 
There  must  then  ensue  the  recognition  of  man’s  complete  power¬ 
lessness  to  free  himself  from  sin,  and  a  deeply  humble  sense  of 
dependence  on  God’s  mercy;  but  this  mere  trust  in  His  mercy  is 
not  enough,  for  it  would  not  satisfy  the  sense  of  sin.  The  sinner 
has  to  own  that  God  is  not  merely  benevolent,  and  that  sin  must 
be  punished.  Therefore  faith  must  contain  the  recognition  of  the 
justice  of  the  Divine  law  against  sin,  manifested  in  the  death  of 
Christ.  Faith,  in  short,  starts  from  the  longing  for  a  representative 
to  atone  for  us,  and  it  ends  with  the  recognition  of  Christ  as  our 
representative,  of  His  Atonement  as  sufficient,  and  of  His  death  as 
displaying  the  due  reward  of  sin.  For  the  Atonement  cannot  be 
a  mere  external  act.  If  Christ  is  our  representative,  He  must  be 

1  On  the  truth  of  the  solidarity  of  all  men  in  Christ,  see  Westcott,  The  Vic¬ 
tory  of  the  Cross,  pp.  6-53. 

2  See,  e.  g Moule,  Outlines  of  Christian  Doctrine,  p.  1S5. 


254  TJie  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

acknowledged  by  those  whom  He  represents ;  otherwise  His  endur¬ 
ance  of  suffering  would  avail  nothing  for  therm  for  God  will  not  be 
satisfied  with  the  mere  infliction  of  punishment.  But  if  the  result 
of  His  death  is  that  men  are  brought,  one  by  one,  age  after  age,  to 
acknowledge  the  righteousness  of  the  law  for  which  He  suffered, 
to  recognize  the  result  of  sin  to  which  sin  has  blinded  them,  then 
there  has  been  made  on  their  part  the  first  step  towards  the  great 
reconciliation.  Faith  identifies  the  individual  with  the  sacrifice 
which  has  been  offered  for  him,  and  therefore  with  Christ’s  attitude 
towards  God  and  towards  sin,  and  though  it  it  is  but  the  first  step, 
yet  it  is  emphatically  that  by  reason  of  which  we  are  justified.  For 
since  we  are  thus  identified  with  the  sacrifice,  God  accepts  the 
first  step  for  the  whole  course,  of  which  it  is  the  pledge  and  antici¬ 
pation.  We  are  justified  because  we  believe  in  God,  but  also 
because  God  believes  in  us.1  Faith,  being  what  it  is,  a  complex 
moral  act  whereby  Christ’s  propitiation  is  accepted  by  man,  implies 
an  attitude  of  mind  towards  sin  so  right  that,  though  it  is  but  the 
first  movement  of  the  soul  in  Christ,  God  takes  it  for  the  whole, 
sees  us  as  wholly  in  Him,  reckons  it  to  us  as  righteousness.  But 
only  because  it  is  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  first,  the  hardest,  perhaps, 
and  the  most  necessary,  but  still  only  the  first  step  towards  com¬ 
plete  sanctification.  And  if  we  now  ask  what  is  the  further  course 
of  sanctification,  the  answer  will  show  the  full  relation  of  the  sac¬ 
rifice  of  Christ  to  man’s  will  and  conscience.  For  the  life  of  sanc¬ 
tification  is  nothing  else  but  the  4  imitation  of  Christ  ’  in  that  task 
of  ‘  learning  obedience  ’  to  which  His  life  was  devoted,  and  which 
His  death  completed.  In  us  too,  as  in  Him,  that  task  has  to  be 
accomplished  by  suffering.  1  He  learnt  obedience  by  the  things 
which  He  suffered.’  ‘  It  became  Him  ...  in  bringing  many  sons 
unto  glory,  to  make  the  Captain  of  their  salvation  perfect  through 
sufferings.’  That  same  path  towards  perfection  lies  before  all  who 
are  justified  by  faith  in  His  atoning  sacrifice.  For  justification  is 
a  spiritual  act  answering  to  the  spiritual  act  of  faith.  The  spiritual 
germ  of  vitality  thus  implanted  in  us  has  to  be  developed  in  the 
sphere  in  which  the  consequences  of  sin  naturally  and  inevitably 
work  themselves  out,  in  the  bodily  nature  of  man.  ‘  Even  we,’  says 
St.  Paul,  ‘  which  have  the  first-fruits  of  the  Spirit,’  even  we  are 
waiting  for  the  further  process,  for  ‘  the  adoption,  to  wit  the 
redemption,  of  our  body.’  And  the  process  consists  in  so  following 
‘  the  Captain  of  our  salvation  ’  that,  like  Him,  we  accept  every  one 

1  Cf.  Aug.,  de  Trin.,  i.  io :  ‘Tales  nos  amat  Deus,  quales  futuri  sumus, 
non  quales  sumus.’ 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


255 


of  those  sufferings  which  are  the  consequences  of  sin,  but  accept 
them  not  as  punishment  imposed  from  without  upon  unwilling 
offenders,  but  as  the  material  of  our  free-will  sacrifice.  From  no 
one  pang  or  trial  of  our  nature  has  He  delivered  us,  indeed  He 
has  rather  laid  them  upon  us  more  unsparingly,  more  inevitably. 
But  the  sufferings  from  which  He  would  not  deliver  us,  He  has 
transformed  for  us.  They  are  no  longer  penal,  but  remedial  and 
penitential.  Pain  has  become  the  chastisement  of  a  Father  Who 
loves  us,  and  death  the  passage  into  His  very  presence.  And  this 
He  has  done  for  us  by  the  bestowal  upon  us  of  spiritual  vitality. 
The  germ  is  implanted  by  the  act  of  forgiveness  which  removes  the 
wrath  and  the  impending  death,  and  this  germ  of  life,  cherished 
and  developed  by  the  gifts  which  flow  from  His  mediation  and 
intercession,  by  the  Holy  Spirit  Whom  He  sends  to  dwell  in  us, 
works  on  all  the  penalties  of  sin,  and  makes  them  the  sacrifice 
which  we  offer  in  Him.  This  is  the  ‘  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life.’  ‘  If 
Christ  be  in  you,  the  body  is  dead  because  of  sin  ;  but  the  Spirit  is 
life,  because  of  righteousness.  But  if  the  Spirit  of  Him  that  raised 
up  Jesus  from  the  dead  dwell  in  you,  He  that  raised  up  Christ  from 
the  dead  shall  also  quicken  your  mortal  bodies  by  His  Spirit  that 
dwelleth  in  you.’ 

Our  personal  share,  then,  in  the  Atonement  is  not  mere  passiv¬ 
ity.  It  consists,  first,  in  the  acceptance  of  God’s  forgiveness  in 
Christ,  our  self-identification  with  Christ’s  atoning  attitude,  and 
then  in  working  out,  by  the  power  of  the  life  bestowed  upon  us,  all 
the  consequences  of  forgiveness,  the  transformation  of  punishment 
into  sacrifice,  the  imitation  of  Christ  in  His  perfect  obedience  to 
the  law  of  righteousness,  the  gradual  sanctification  of  body,  soul, 
and  spirit,  by  the  grace  which  enables  us  to  ‘  suffer  with  Him.’ 

III.  The  doctrine  of  Atonement,  more  than  any  of  the  great 
truths  of  Christianity,  has  been  misconceived  and  misrepresented, 
and  has  therefore  not  only  been  rejected  itself,  but  has  sometimes 
been  the  cause  of  the  rejection  of  the  whole  Christian  system. 
The  truth  of  the  vicarious  sacrifice  has  been  isolated  till  it  has 
almost  become  untrue,  and,  mysterious  as  it  undoubtedly  is,  it 
has  been  so  stated  as  to  be  not  only  mysterious,  but  contrary  to 
reason  and  even  to  conscience.  One  most  terrible  misconception 
it  is  hardly  necessary  to  do  more  than  mention.  The  truth  of  the 
wrath  of  God  against  sin  and  of  the  love  of  Christ  by  which  that 
wrath  was  removed,  has  been  perverted  into  a  belief  in  a  diver¬ 
gence  of  will  between  God  the  Father  and  God  the  Son,  as  if  it 
was  the  Father’s  will  that  sinners  should  perish,  the  Son’s  will  that 
they  should  be  saved ;  as  if  the  Atonement  consisted  in  the  pro- 


256 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


pitiation  of  the  wrathful  God  by  the  substituted  punishment  of  the 
innocent  for  the  guilty.  It  will  be  seen  that  while  this  statement 
seems  to  represent  the  Catholic  doctrine,  in  reality  it  introduces 
a  most  vital  difference.  There  can  be  no  divergence  of  will 
between  the  Persons  of  the  Blessed  Trinity ;  and,  in  regard  to 
this  special  dealing  with  man,  we  have  the  clearest  testimony  of 
Revelation  that  the  whole  Godhead  shared  in  the  work.  Here, 
as  always,  God  the  Father  is  revealed  as  the  source  and  origin  of 
all  good.  ‘  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He  gave  His  only  begot¬ 
ten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish,  but 
have  everlasting  life.’  ‘  God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world 
to  Himself.’  The  beginning  and  the  end  of  the  Atonement  is  the 
love  of  God  :  the  death  of  Christ  was  not  the  cause,  but  the  reve¬ 
lation  of  that  love.1  That  it  was  the  second  Person  of  the  Trinity 
who  was  actually  the  means  of  our  redemption  may  be  ascribed 
to  that  original  relation  of  the  Logos  to  the  human  race,  by  which 
He  was  both  its  Creator  and  its  perfect  exemplar.2  But  nothing 
can  be  farther  from  the  truth  than  to  imagine  that  His  was  all  the 
love  which  saved  us,  the  Father’s  all  the  wrath  which  condemned 
us.  If  the  death  of  Christ  was  necessary  to  propitiate  the  wrath 
of  the  Father,  it  was  necessary  to  propitiate  His  own  wrath  also ; 
if  it  manifested  His  love,  it  manifested  the  Father’s  love  also. 
The  absolute,  unbroken  unity  of  will  between  the  Father  and  the 
Son  is  the  secret  of  the  atoning  sacrifice. 

Again,  the  isolation  of  the  truth  of  the  Atonement  from  other 
parts  of  Christian  doctrine  has  led  to  a  mode  of  stating  it  which 
deprives  us  of  all  motive  to  action,  of  all  responsibility  for  our  own 
salvation.  Just  as  the  misconception  noticed  above  arose  from  a 
failure  to  grasp  the  whole  truth  of  our  Lord’s  Divinity,  so  this 
error  springs  from  ignoring  His  perfect  Humanity.  Christ  is 
regarded  as  having  no  vital  or  real  relation  to  us,  and  His  work 
is  therefore  wholly  external,  a  mere  gift  from  above.  But  what 
has  already  been  said  will  show  that  from  the  first  the  Atonement 
has  been  taught  as  the  offering  of  our  spiritual  Head,  in  Whom 
we  are  redeemed,  and  whose  example  we  are  able  to  follow  as 
having  Him  in  us.  Salvation  is  thus  given  to  us  indeed,  but  it 
is  given  to  us  because  we  are  in  Christ,  and  we  have  to  work  out 
our  share  in  it  because  of  the  responsibility,  the  call  to  sacrifice, 

1  This  is  well  stated  by  McLeod  Campbell,  1.  c.,  p.  16. 

2  Cf.  Athan.,  de  Inc.,  passim,  esp.  chs.  20  and  42  Hooker,  Eccles.  Pol., 
V.  li.  3  :  ‘  It  seemeth  a  thing  unconsonant  that  the  world  should  honor  any 
other  as  the  Saviour  but  Him  Whom  it  honoreth  as  the  Creator  of  the 
world.’ 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


257 


which  that  union  with  Him  lays  upon  us.  i  Work  out  your  own 
salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,  for  it  is  God  which  worketh  in 
you  both  to  will  and  to  do.’  It  is  all  from  God  and  of  God ;  but 
God  has  come  into  our  life,  and  taken  us  up  into  Him,  and  called 
upon  us  to  follow  Him  in  the  way  of  the  cross. 

And  this  leads  us  to  consider  another  error,  or  rather  another 
form  of  the  same  error.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  hear 
the  doctrine  of  Atonement  stated  as  if  the  work  of  Christ  consisted 
in  His  endurance  of  our  punishment  in  order  that  we  might  not 
endure  it.  This  view  of  the  doctrine  leads  to  the  objections  — 
perhaps  the  commonest  of  all  the  difficulties  found  in  what  men 
take  for  Christianity  —  that  the  punishment  of  the  innocent  instead 
of  the  guilty  is  unjust,  and  that  punishment  cannot  be  borne  by 
any  one  but  the  sinner.  We  have  seen  that  the  real  vicariousness 
of  our  Lord’s  work  lay  in  the  offering  of  the  perfect  sacrifice  :  the 
theory  we  are  now  considering  holds,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  lay 
in  the  substitution  of  His  punishment  for  ours.  A  partial  truth  is 
contained  in  this  theory ;  for  our  Lord  did  endure  sufferings,  and, 
as  has  been  already  said,  they  were  the  very  sufferings  which  are, 
in  sinners,  the  penalties  of  sin.  But  as  a  simple  matter  of  fact 
and  experience,  the  sufferings  and  the  pains  of  death  which  He 
endured  have  not  been  remitted  to  us  ;  and  that  which  is  remitted, 
the  eternal  penalty  of  alienation  from  God,  was  not,  could  not  be 
endured  by  Him.  For  alienation  from  God  is,  essentially,  a  state 
of  sin ;  it  is  sin,  regarded  both  in  its  origin  and  in  its  necessary 
result.  It  could  not,  therefore,  be  borne  by  Christ,  ‘in  Whom 
was  no  sin,’  between  Whom  and  the  Father  was  no  alienation. 
Attempts  have  been  made  to  establish  a  quantitative  relation 
between  our  Lord’s  sufferings  and  the  punishment  which  is  thereby 
remitted  to  us,  to  prove  that  the  eternal  nature  of  the  Sufferer 
made  His  death  equivalent  to  eternal  punishment.  But  even  if 
such  attempts,  in  so  mysterious  a  region,  could  succeed,  it  would 
be  vain  to  establish  a  quantitative  equivalence  where  there  is  no 
qualitative  relation.  Eternal  punishment  is  4  eternal  sin,’ 1  and  as 
such  could  never  be  endured  by  the  sinless  Son  of  God. 

But  we  have  to  face  the  question  which  naturally  follows. 
What,  then,  did  His  sufferings  and  death  mean?  Why  did  He 
endure  what  are  to  us  the  temporal  penalties,  the  diverse  conse¬ 
quences  of  sin?  And  if  He  endured  them,  why  are  they  not 
remitted  to  us?  It  is  true,  as  has  been  shown,  that  He  bore  just 
those  sufferings  which  are  the  results  and  penalties  of  sin,  even  to 

1  Cf.  the  true  reading  of  St.  Mark  lii.  29,  R.  V. 

17 


258 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


that  tremendous  final  experience  in  which  man  loses  sight  of  God 
as  he  enters  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  ;  but  He  bore  them, 
not  that  we  might  be  freed  from  them,  for  we  have  deserved  them, 
but  that  we  might  be  enabled  to  bear  them,  as  He  did,  victoriously 
and  in  unbroken  union  with  God.  He,  the  Innocent,  suffered, 
but  the  guilty  do  not  ‘  go  free  ;  ’  for  the  very  end  and  object  of 
all  the  obedience  that  He  learnt  was,  that  He  might  lead  man 
along  the  same  path  of  suffering,  not  ‘  free,’  but  gladly  submissive 
to  the  pains,  which,  but  for  Him,  would  be  the  overwhelming 
penalties  of  our  sins.  It  may  be  true  that  ‘  punishment  cannot 
be  borne  by  any  one  but  the  sinner,’ 1  and  therefore  it  may  be  right 
not  to  call  Christ’s  sufferings  punishment,  especially  as  the  expres¬ 
sion  is  significantly  avoided  in  the  New  Testament.  But  it  is 
certainly  not  true  that  the  sufferings  which  result  from  sin  cannot 
be  borne  by  any  one  but  the  sinner  :  every  day  demonstrates  the 
falsity  of  such  an  assertion.  Sufferings  borne  in  the  wrong  spirit, 
unsubmissively  or  without  recognition  of  their  justice,  are  penal ; 
but  the  spirit  of  humility  and  obedience  makes  them  remedial  and 
purgatorial.  Christ,  by  so  bearing  the  pains  which  sin  brought 
upon  human  nature,  and  which  the  special  sin  of  His  enemies 
heaped  upon  Him,  has  not  only  offered  the  one  perfect  sacrifice, 
but  has  also  given  us  strength  to  make  the  same  submission,  to 
learn  the  same  obedience,  and  to  share  the  same  sacrifice. 

IV.  There  are  many  topics  connected  with  the  Atonement 
which  it  is  impossible  here  to  discuss,  but  which  seem  to  fall  into 
their  right  place  and  proportion  if  those  aspects  of  Christ’s  redeem¬ 
ing  work  which  have  been  dwelt  upon  are  kept  firmly  in  mind. 
The  central  mystery  of  the  cross,  the  forgiveness,  the  removal  of 
wrath,  thereby  freely  bestowed  upon  us,  remains  a  mystery,  and 
must  always  be  an  insuperable  difficulty  to  those  who  depend 
tvholly  on  reason,  or  who  trust  wholly  in  man’s  power  to  extricate 
himself  from  the  destruction  wrought  by  his  sin,  as  it  was  an 
offence  to  the  Jew,  and  foolishness  to  the  Greek.  But  mystery 
though  it  is  to  the  intellect,  there  is  a  moral  fitness 2  in  the  bestowal 
of  forgiveness  because  of  the  obedience  of  Christ  shown  in  His 
sacrificial  death,  which  appeals  irresistibly  to  the  moral  conscious¬ 
ness  of  mankind.  The  witness  of  this  is  the  trustful  gratitude  with 
which  the  doctrine  of  Christ  crucified  has  been  accepted  by 

1  W.  R.  Greg. 

‘2  It  should  be  noticed  that  the  Greek  Fathers  and  the  English  divines  for 
the  most  part  confine  themselves  to  showing  this  moral  fitness  and  conso¬ 
nance  with  God’s  moral  nature  in  the  Atonement,  and  do  not  attempt  to 
prove  its  absolute  necessity.  Cf.  Athanasius,  de  Incarn.  Verbi,  ch.  6 ; 
Hooker,  Eccles.  Pol.,  V.  li.  3;  Butler,  Analogy,  pt.  ii.  c.  5. 


vii.  The  Atonement. 


259 


Christians,  learned  and  unlearned,  from  the  age  of  its  first  preach¬ 
ing.  The  human  heart  accepts  it,  and  by  the  cross  is  assured  of 
forgiveness  :  ‘  to  them  which  are  called  ’  it  is  6  Christ  the  power  of 
God,  and  the  wisdom  of  God.’ 

But  if  we  may  appeal  to  experience  in  support  of  this  mysterious 
truth,  much  more  may  we  claim  the  same  support  for  the  plainer, 
more  human  aspect  of  the  Atonement.  As  St.  Athanasius  in  his 
day,1  so  we  in  ours  may  appeal  for  the  practical  and  visible  proof 
of  the  Atonement,  to  the  complete  change  in  man’s  relation  to 
sorrow  and  suffering,  and  in  the  Christian  view  of  death.2  This  is 
no  small  matter.  When  we  realize  what  suffering  is  in  human  life, 
the  vast  place  which  it  has  in  our  experience,  its  power  of  absorbing 
the  mind,  its  culmination  in  the  final  pangs  of  death,  and  when  we 
see  the  transformation,  however  gradual  and  imperfect  it  may  be, 
of  all  this  into  the  means  and  material  of  the  sacrifice  which  the 
follower  of  Christ  is  gladly  willing  to  offer  to  the  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  we  realize  the  full  force  of  the  great  words  telling  of 
the  destruction  ‘  through  death  of  him  that  had  the  power  of  death, 
that  is  the  devil,’  and  of  the  deliverance  of  ‘  them  who  through  fear 
of  death  were  all  their  lifetime  subject  to  bondage.’  And  the  trans¬ 
formation,  the  destruction,  the  deliverance,  consist  in  this,  that  from 
these  sufferings  His  sacrifice  has  removed  the  element  of  rebellion, 
the  hopelessness  of  alienation,  the  sting  of  sin.  They  are  ours, 
because  they  were  His  ;  but  they  are  ours  #.ythey  were  His,  purified 
and  perfected  by  obedience,  by  the  offering  of  a  holy  Will ;  ‘  by  the 
which  Will  we  are  sanctified  through  the  offering  of  the  body  of 
Jesus  Christ  once  for  all.’ 

1  Cf.  De  Inearn.  Verbi,  chs.  27,  28,  29. 

2  Cf.  Carlyle’s  apostrophe  to  Marie  Antoinette  on  her  way  to  the  scaffold: 
‘Think  of  Him  Whom  thou  worshippest,  the  Crucified,  —  Who  also  treading 
the  winepress  alone,  fronted  sorrow  still  deeper  ;  and  triumphed  over  it,  and 
made  it  Holy,  and  built  of  it  a  “Sanctuary  of  Sorrow”  for  thee  and  all  the 
wretched.’ — Miscellaneous  Essays,  vol.  v.  p.  165  (ed.  1872). 


. 

. 


j 


. 


■ 


VIII. 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT  AND  INSPIRATION. 

- - 


CHARLES  GORE. 


VIII. 


THE  HOL  Y  SPIRIT  AND  INSPIRA  TION. 


I.  The  appeal  to  ‘experience’  in  religion,  whether  personal  or 
general,  brings  before  the  mind  so  many  associations  of  ungoverned 
enthusiasm  and  untrustworthy  fanaticism  that  it  does  not  easily 
commend  itself  to  those  of  us  who  are  most  concerned  to  be  reas¬ 
onable.  And  yet,  in  one  form  or  another,  it  is  an  essential  part 
of  the  appeal  which  Christianity  makes  on  its  own  behalf  since  the 
day  when  Jesus  Christ  met  the  question,  ‘Art  thou  He  that  should 
come,  or  do  we  look  for  another?  ’  by  pointing  to  the  transforming 
effect  of  His  work  :  ‘  The  blind  receive  their  sight,  and  the  lame 
walk ;  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  and  the  deaf  hear ;  the  dead  are 
raised  up,  and  the  poor  have  the  Gospel  preached  to  them.’ 

The  fact  is  that  in  current  appeals  to  experience  the  fault,  where 
there  is  a  fault,  lies  not  in  the  appeal  but  in  the  nature  of  the 
experience  appealed  to.  What  is  meant  by  the  term  is  often  an 
excited  state  of  feeling,  rather  than  a  permanent  transformation  of 
the  whole  moral,  intellectual,  and  physical  being  of  man.  Or  it 
is  something  which  seems  individual  and  eccentric,  or  something 
confined  to  a  particular  class  of  persons  under  special  conditions 
of  education  or  of  ignorance,  or  something  which  other  religions 
besides  Christianity  have  been  conspicuous  for  producing.  When 
a  meaning  broad  and  full,  and  at  the  same  time  exact  enough, 
has  been  given  to  experience,  the  appeal  is  essential  to  Chris¬ 
tianity,  because  Christianity  professes  to  be  not  a  mere  record  of 
the  past,  but  a  present  life,  and  there  is  no  life  where  there  is  no 
experience. 

It  will  be  worth  while,  then,  to  bear  in  mind  how  freely  the 
original  defenders  of  the  Christian  Church  appealed,  like  their 
Master,  to  facts  of  experience.  Thus  we  find  an  individual,  like 
St.  Cyprian,  recalling  the  time  of  his  baptism,  and  the  personal 
experience  of  illumination  and  power  which  it  brought  with  it : 

‘  Such  were  my  frequent  musings  :  for  whereas  I  was  encumbered 
with  the  many  sins  of  my  past  life,  which  it  seemed  impossible  to 


264 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


be  rid  of,  so  I  had  used  myself  to  give  way  to  my  clinging  infirm¬ 
ities,  and,  from  despair  of  better  things,  to  humor  the  evils  of  my 
heart,  as  slaves  born  in  my  house,  and  my  proper  offspring.  But 
after  that  life-giving  water  succored  me,  washing  away  the  stain 
of  former  years,  and  pouring  into  my  cleansed  and  hallowed  breast 
the  light  which  comes  from  heaven,  after  that  I  drank  in  the 
Heavenly  Spirit,  and  was  created  into  a  new  man  by  a  second 
birth,  —  then  marvellously  what  before  was  doubtful  became  plain 
to  me,  what  was  hidden  was  revealed,  what  was  dark  began  to 
shine,  what  was  before  difficult  now  had  a  way  and  a  means,  what 
had  seemed  impossible  now  could  be  achieved,  what  was  in  me  of 
the  guilty  flesh  now  confessed  that  it  was  earthy,  what  was  quickened 
in  me  by  the  Holy  Ghost  now  had  a  growth  according  to  God.’ 1 

Again,  we  find  an  apologist  like  St.  Athanasius  resting  the  stress 
of  his  argument  on  behalf  of  Christ  upon  what  He  has  done  in  the 
world,  and  specially  on  the  spiritual  force  He  exercises  on  masses 
of  men,  ‘  drawing  them  to  religion,  persuading  them  to  virtue, 
teaching  them  immortality,  leading  them  to  the  desire  of  heavenly 
things,  revealing  the  knowledge  of  the  Father,  inspiring  power  over 
death,  showing  each  man  to  himself,  abolishing  the  godlessness  of 
idolatry/  2 

The  Fathers  of  the  Christian  Church  appealed  in  this  way  to 
experience,  because  Christianity,  as  they  knew,  is  essentially  not  a 
past  event,  but  a  present  life,  a  life  first  manifested  in  Christ,  and 
then  perpetuated  in  His  Church.  Christianity  is  a  manifested  life, 
—  a  thing,  therefore,  like  all  other  forms  of  life,  known  not  in  itself, 
but  in  its  effects,  its  fruits,  its  results.  Christianity  is  a  manifested 
life,  and  it  is  this  because  it  is  the  sphere  in  which  the  Spirit,  the 
Life-giver,  finds  His  freest  and  most  unhindered  activity.  The 
Christian  Church  is  the  scene  of  the  intensest,  the  most  vigorous, 
the  richest,  the  most  ‘  abundant  *  life  that  the  universe  knows, 
because  in  a  pre-eminent  sense  it  is  the  4  Spirit-bearing  body.’  The 
Spirit  is  life  ;  that  is  His  chief  characteristic.  We  may  indeed  eluci¬ 
date  the  idea  of  spirit  by  negations  ;  by  negation  of  materiality,  of 
circumscription,  of  limitation  :  but  the  positive  conception  we  are 
to  attach  to  spirit  is  the  conception  of  life  ;  and  where  life  is  most 
penetrating,  profound,  invincible,  rational,  conscious  of  God,  there 
in  fullest  freedom  of  operation  is  the  Holy  Spirit.3 

1  Cyprian,  ad  Donatum,  3.  Trans,  in  Library  of  the  Fathers,  iii.  3. 

2  Athanasius,  de  Incarnatione,  31,  48-52. 

3  See  St.  Basil’s  fine  definition  of  the  term  in  his  treatise  On  the  Holy 

Spirit,  ix.  22.  This  treatise  has  been  translated  by  the  Rev.  G.  Lewis  for 
the  Religious  Tract  Society. 


265 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration. 

Thus,  obviously  enough,  the  doctrine  of  the  Spirit  is  no  remote 
or  esoteric  thing ;  it  is  no  mere  ultimate  object  ot  the  rapt  con¬ 
templation  of  the  mystic ;  it  is  the  doctrine  of  that  wherein  God 
touches  man  most  nearly,  most  familiarly,  in  common  life.  Last  in 
the  eternal  order  of  the  Divine  Being,  ‘  proceeding  from  the  Father 
and  the  Son,’  the  Holy  Spirit  is  the  first  point  of  contact  with  God 
in  the  order  of  human  experience.1 

‘  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  giver  of  life.’  All  life  is  His 
operation.  ‘  Wherever  the  Holy  Spirit  is,  there  is  also  life  ;  and 
wherever  life  is,  there  is  also  the  Holy  Spirit.’ 2  Thus  if  creation 
takes  its  rise  in  the  will  of  the  Father,  if  it  finds  its  law  in  the  being 
of  the  Word  or  Son,  yet  the  effective  instrument  of  creation,  the 
‘  finger  of  God,’  the  moving  principle  of  vitalization  is  the  Holy 
Spirit,  ‘the  divider  and  distributor  of  the  gifts  of  life.’ 3 4 5 

Nature  is  one  great  body,  and  there  is  breath  in  the  body  ;  but 
this  breath  is  not  self-originated  life,  it  is  the  influence  of  the 
Divine  Spirit.  ‘  By  the  word  of  the  Lord  were  the  heavens  made, 
and  all  the  host  of  them  by  the  breath  of  His  mouth.’  The  Spirit, 
the  breath  of  God,  was  brooding  upon  the  face  of  the  waters  of 
chaos  ere  life  and  order  were.  It  is  the  sending  forth  of  the  breath 
of  God,  which  is  the  giving  to  things  of  the  gift  of  life  ;  it  is  the 
withdrawal  of  that  breath  which  is  their  annihilation/*  So  keenly, 
indeed,  were  the  Christians  of  the  early  period  conscious  of  the  one 
life  of  nature  as  the  universal  evidence  of  the  one  Spirit,  that  it 
was  a  point  of  the  charge  against  Origen  that  his  language  seemed 
to  involve  an  exclusion  of  the  Holy  Spirit  from  nature,  and  a  limi¬ 
tation  of  His  activity  to  the  Church.0  The  whole  of  life  is  certainly 
His.  And  yet,  because  His  special  attribute  is  holiness,  it  is  in 
rational  natures,  which  alone  are  capable  of  holiness,  that  He  exerts 

1  See  Basil,  as  above,  xvi.  37  :  ‘  We  must  not  suppose  because  the  Apostle 
(1  Cor.  xii.  4)  mentions  the  Spirit  first,  and  the  Son  second,  and  God  the 
Father  third,  that  the  order  at  the  present  day  has  been  quite  reversed.  For 
he  made  his  beginning  from  our  end  of  the  relation:  for  it  is  by  receiving 
the  gifts  that  we  come  in  contact  with  the  Distributor;  then  we  come  to  con¬ 
sider  the  Sender  ;  then  we  carry  back  our  thought  to  the  Fount  and  Cause 
of  the  good  things/  Cf.  xviii.  47  :  ‘  The  way  of  the  knowledge  of  God  is 
from  one  Spirit,  by  the  one  Son,  to  the  one  Father  ;  and  reversely,  the  nat¬ 
ural  goodness  of  God,  His  holiness  of  nature,  His  royal  rank  taking  their 
rise  from  the  Father,  reach  the  Spirit  though  the  Only-begotten/ 

2  Ambrose,  de  Spiritu  Sancto,  i.  15,  172. 

3  So  Irenaeus,  Cyril  of  Jerusalem,  Athanasius,  Basil,  Didymus,  Victori- 
nus,  express  the  relation  of  the  Divine  Persons  in  Creation. 

4  Ps.  xxxiii.  6  ;  Gen.  i.  2  ;  Ps.  civ.  29,  30. 

5  Huet.  Origeniana,  L.  ii.,  Qu.  i.  2,  c.  xxvii.  Cf.  Athan.,  Epp.  ad  Serapion., 
i-  23-31 ,  iv.  9-12. 


266 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


His  special  influence.  A  special  in-breathing  of  the  Divine  Spirit 
gave  to  man  his  proper  being.1  In  humanity,  made  after  the 
Divine  Image,  it  was  the  original  intention  of  God  that  the  Spirit 
should  find  His  chiefest  joy,  building  the  edifice  of  a  social  life  in 
which  nature  was  to  find  its  crown  and  justification ;  a  life  of  con¬ 
scious  and  free  sonship,  in  which  the  gifts  of  God  should  be  not 
only  received,  but  recognized  as  His,  and  consciously  used  in  will¬ 
ing  and  glad  homage  to  the  Divine  Giver,  in  reverent  execution  of 
the  law  of  development  impressed  by  the  Divine  Reason,  in  the 
realized  fellowship  of  the  Blessed  Spirit  of  knowledge  and  love. 
The  history  of  humanity  has  in  fact  been  a  development,  but  a 
development  the  continuity  of  which  is  most  apparent  in  that 
department  in  which  man  appears  simply  as  the  child  of  nature, 
the  most  perfect  and  interesting  of  her  products,  consciously  adapt¬ 
ing  himself  to  his  environment  and  moulded  by  it.  This  indeed 
has  been  so  much  the  case  that  the  facts  of  the  history  of  civiliza¬ 
tion  have  been  used,  at  least  plausibly,  as  an  argument  against  our 
race  really  possessing  moral  freedom  at  all.  Such  a  use  of  the  facts 
is,  we  recognize,  not  justifiable.  It  leaves  out  of  consideration 
some  of  the  most  striking  elements  in  human  history,  and  some  of 
the  most  certain  facts  of  human  consciousness.  But  the  very 
plausibleness  of  the  argument  is  suggestive.  It  means  that  com¬ 
paratively  very  few  men  have  been  at  pains  to  realize  their  true 
freedom  ;  that  men  in  masses  have  been  dominated  by  the  mere 
forces  of  nature  ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  human  history  presents 
broadly  the  record  of  a  one-sided,  a  distorted  development.  For 
man  was  not  meant  for  merely  natural  evolution,  mere  self-adapta¬ 
tion  to  the  ‘  things  that  are  seen.’  The  consciousness  that  he  was 
•  meant  for  something  higher  has  tinged  his  most  brilliant  physical 
successes,  his  greatest  triumphs  of  civilization  and  art,  with  the  bit¬ 
terness  of  remorse,  the  misery  of  conscious  lawlessness. 

Our  race  was  created  for  conscious  fellowship  with  God,  for  son- 
ship,  for  the  life  of  spirit.  And  it  is  just  in  this  department  that  its 
failure  has  been  most  conspicuous.  It  is  here  that  the  Divine 
Spirit  has  found  His  chiefest  disappointment.  Everywhere  He  has 
found  rebellion,—  not  everywhere  without  exception,  for  ‘  in  every 
age  entering  into  holy  souls,  He  has  made  them  sons  of  God  and 
prophets  ;  *  but  everywhere  in  such  a  general  sense  that  sin  in  fact 
and  in  its  consequences  covers  the  whole  region  of  humanity.  In 
the  highest  department  of  created  life,  where  alone  lawlessness  was 
possible,  because  what  was  asked  for  was  the  co-operation  of  free 


1  Gen.  ii.  7. 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration.  267 

service  to  carry  out  a  freely  accepted  ideal,1  — there  alone  is  the 
record  of  lawlessness,  the  record  of  the  Spirit  striving  with  man, 
but  resisted,  rejected,  ignored,  quenched.  Thus  the  word,  which 
in  fact  most  forcibly  characterizes  man’s  spiritual  history,  so  far  as 
it  has  been  according  to  the  mind  of  God,  is  not  progress,  but 
recovery,  or  redemption.  It  is  not  natural,  but  supernatural, — 
supernatural,  that  is,  in  view  of  the  false  nature  which  man  made 
for  himself  by  excluding  God.  Otherwise  the  work  of  redemption 
is  only  the  reconstitution  of  the  nature  which  God  designed.  It  is 
the  recovery  within  the  limits  of  a  chosen  race  and  by  a  deliberate 
process  of  limitation,  of  a  state  of  things  which  had  been  intended 
to  be  universal.2  The  ‘  elect  ’  represent  not  the  special  purpose  of 
God  for  a  few,  but  the  universal  purpose  which  under  the  circum¬ 
stances  can  only  be  realized  through  a  few.  The  hedging  in  of 
the  few,  the  drawing  of  the  lines  so  close,  the  method  of  exclusion 
again  and  again  renewed  all  down  the  history  of  redemption,  repre¬ 
sents  the  love  of  the  Divine  Spirit  ever  baffled  in  the  mass,  pre¬ 
serving  the  truth  of  God  in  a  ‘  remnant,’  an  elect  body ;  who 
themselves  escaping  the  corruption  which  is  in  the  world,  become 
in  their  turn  a  fresh  centre  from  which  the  restorative  influence  can 
flow  out  upon  mankind.  Rejected  in  the  world,  He  secures  for 
Himself  a  sphere  of  operations  in  the  Jews,  isolating  Abraham, 
giving  the  law  for  a  hedge,  keeping  alive  in  the  nation  the  sense  of 
its  vocation  by  the  inspiration  of  prophets.  Again  and  again 
baffled  in  the  body  of  the  Jewish  nation,  He  falls  back  upon  the 
faithful  remnant,  and  keeps  alive  in  them  that  prospective  sonship 
which  was  meant  to  be  the  vocation  of  the  whole  nation ;  some¬ 
times  in  narrower,  sometimes  in  broader  channels,  the  purpose  of 
love  moves  on  till  the  Spirit  finds  in  the  Son  of  Man,  the  Anointed 
One,  the  perfect  realization  of  the  destiny  of  man,  the  manhood  in 
which  He  can  freely  and  fully  work  :  ‘He  came  down  upon  the  Son 
of  God,  made  son  of  man,  accustoming  Himself  in  His  case  to 
dwell  in  the  human  race,  and  to  repose  in  man,  and  to  dwell  in 
God’s  creatures,  working  out  in  them  the  will  of  the  Father,  and 
recovering  them  from  their  old  nature  into  the  newness  of  Christ.’  3 
In  Christ  humanity  is  perfect,  because  in  Him  it  retains  no  part  of 
that  false  independence  which,  in  all  its  manifold  forms,  is  the 
secret  of  sin.  In  Christ  humanity  is  perfect  and  complete,  in 
ungrudging  and  unimpaired  obedience  to  the  movement  of  the 
Divine  Spirit,  Whose  creation  it  was,  W’hose  organ  it  gave  itself  to 

1  Athan.,  de  Incarn.,  xliii.  3.  2  Athan.,  1.  c.,  xliii.  4. 

3  Iren.,  c.  Haer.,  iii.  17,  1. 


268 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


be.  The  Spirit  anoints  Him ;  the  Spirit  drives  Him  in  to  the  wil¬ 
derness  ;  the  Spirit  gives  Him  the  law  of  His  mission ;  in  the 
power  of  the  Spirit  He  works  His  miracles ;  in  the  Holy  Spirit  He 
lifts  up  the  voice  of  human  thankfulness  to  the  Divine  Father ;  in 
the  Spirit  He  offers  Himself  without  spot  to  God ;  in  the  power  of 
the  Spirit  He  is  raised  from  the  dead.1  All  that  perfect  human  life 
had  been  a  life  of  obedience,  of  progressive  obedience,  a  gradual 
learning  in  each  stage  of  experience  what  obedience  meant ; 2  it  had 
been  a  life  of  obedience  which  became  propitiatory  as  it  bore  loy¬ 
ally,  submissively,  lovingly,  all  the  heritage  of  pain  and  misery  in 
which  sin  in  its  long  history  had  involved  our  manhood,  all  the 
agony  of  that  insult  and  rejection  in  which  sin  revealed  itself  by 
antagonism  to  Him, —  bore  it,  and  by  bearing  it  turned  it  into  the 
material  of  His  accepted  sacrifice.  He  was  obedient  unto  death. 
And  because  He  thus  made  our  human  nature  the  organ  of  a  life 
of  perfect  obedience,  therefore  He  can  go  on  to  make  that  same 
humanity,  freed  from  all  the  limitations  of  this  lower  world  and 
glorified  in  the  Spirit  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  at  once  the  organ 
of  Divine  supremacy  over  the  universe  of  created  things,  and 
(itself  become  quickening  Spirit)3  the  fount  to  all  the  sons  of 
obedience  and  faith  of  its  own  life.  Christ  is  the  second  Adam, 
who  having  ‘  recapitulated  the  long  development  of  humanity  into 
Himself,’ 4  taken  it  up  into  Himself,  that  is,  and  healed  its  wounds 
and  fructified  its  barrenness,  gives  it  a  fresh  start  by  a  new  birth 
from  Him.  The  Spirit  coming  forth  at  Pentecost  out  of  His 
uplifted  manhood,  as  from  a  glorious  fountain  of  new  life,5  perpet¬ 
uates  all  its  richness,  its  power,  its  fulness  in  the  organized  society 
which  He  prepared  and  built  for  the  Spirit’s  habitation.  The 
Church,  His  Spirit-bearing  body,  comes  forth  into  the  world,  not 
as  the  exclusive  sphere  of  the  Spirit’s  operations,  for  ‘  that  breath 
bloweth  where  it  listeth  ;  ’ 6  but  as  the  special  and  covenanted 
sphere  of  His  regular  and  uniform  operation,  the  place  where  He 
is  pledged  to  dwell  and  to  work ;  the  centre  marked  out  and 
hedged  in,  whence  ever  and  again  proceeds  forth  anew  the  work 

1  St.  Mark  i.  io,  12.  St.  Luke  iv.  1,  18  ;  x.  21.  St.  Matt.  xii.  28.  Heb. 
ix.  14.  Rom.  viii.  n.  (These  two  last  passages  at  least  imply  the  action  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  Sacrifice  and  Resurrection  of  Christ.) 

2  Heb.  v.  7-10.  Phil.  ii.  8. 

3  1  Cor.  xv.  45.  ‘  The  last  Adam  became  a  life-giving  Spirit.’  St.  John  vi. 
63,  ‘  Spirit  and  Life.’ 

4  Iren.,  iii.  18,  1,  and  frequently  elsewhere. 

5  Iren.,  iii.  24,  1. 

6  St.  John  iii.  4.  The  intention  of  this  passage  is  to  express  not  that  the 
Spirit  is  lawless  in  His  operations,  but  that  He  is  beyond  our  control. 


Vni.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration. 


269 


of  human  recovery;  the  home  where,  in  spite  of  sin  and  imper¬ 
fection,  is  ever  kept  alive  the  picture  of  what  the  Christian  life  is, 
that  is,  of  what  common  human  life  is  meant  to  be  and  can 
become. 

Of  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  Church  we  may  note  four 
characteristics. 

1.  It  is  social.  It  treats  man  as  a  ‘social  being’  who  cannot 
realize  himself  in  isolation.  For  no  other  reason  than  because 
grace  is  the  restoration  of  nature,1  the  true,  the  redeemed  humanity 
is  presented  to  us  as  a  society  or  Church.  This  is  apparent  with 
reference  to  either  of  the  gifts  which  summarize  the  essence  of  the 
Church’s  life,  grace,  or  truth.  Sacraments  are  the  ordained  instru¬ 
ments  of  grace,  and  sacraments  are  in  one  of  their  aspects  social 
ceremonies  —  of  incorporation,  or  restoration,  or  bestowal  of  au¬ 
thority,  or  fraternal  sharing  of  the  bread  of  life.  They  presuppose 
a  social  organization.  Those  who  have  attempted  to  explain  why 
there  should  be  in  the  Church  an  Apostolic  succession  of  ministers, 
have  seen  the  grounds  of  such  appointment  in  the  necessity  for 
preserving  in  a  catholic  society,  which  lacks  the  natural  links  of 
race  or  language  or  common  habitation,  a  visible  and  obligatory 
bond  of  association.2 

The  same  fact  appears  in  reference  to  the  truth,  the  knowledge 
of  God  and  of  the  true  nature  and  needs  of  man,  which  constitutes 
one  main  part  of  the  Christian  life.  That  too  is  no  mere  individual 
illumination.  It  is  ‘  a  rule  of  faith,’  an  ‘  apostolic  tradition,’  4  a 
pattern  of  sound  words,’  embodied  in  Holy  Scripture  and  perpetu¬ 
ated  in  a  teaching  Church,  within  the  scope  of  which  each  indi¬ 
vidual  is  to  be  brought  to  have  his  mind  and  conscience  fashioned 
by  it,  normally  from  earliest  years.  It  would  be  going  beyond  the 
province  of  this  essay  to  stop  to  prove  that  from  the  beginnings  of 
the  Christian  life,  a  man  was  understood  to  become  a  Christian  and 
receive  the  benefits  of  redemption,  by  no  other  means  than  incor¬ 
poration  into  the  Christian  society. 

2.  But  none  the  less  on  account  of  this  social  method  the  Spirit 
flourishes  individuality.  The  very  idea  of  the  Spirit’s  gift  is  that  of 
an  intenser  life.  Intenser  life  is  more  individualized  life,  for  our 
life  becomes  richer  and  fuller  only  by  the  intensification  of  perso¬ 
nality  and  character.  Thus  Christianity  has  always  trusted  to 
strongly  marked  character  as  the  means  by  which  religion  is  propa¬ 
gated.  It  does  not  advance  as  an  abstract  doctrine,  but  by  the 

1  Aug.,  de  Spiritu  et  Littera,  xxvii.  47,  ‘Grace  is  not  the  negation  of 
nature,  but  its  restoration.’ 

2  Raymund  of  Sabunde,  Theol.  Nat.,  tit.  303. 


270  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

subtle,  penetrating  influences  of  personality.  It  is  the  illuminated 
man  who  becomes  a  centre  of  illumination.  ‘  As  clear  transparent 
bodies  if  a  ray  of  light  fall  on  them  become  radiant  themselves  and 
diffuse  their  splendor  all  around,  so  souls  illuminated  by  the  in¬ 
dwelling  Spirit  are  rendered  spiritual  themselves  and  impart  their 
grace  to  others.’ 1  'l  hus,  from  the  first,  Christianity  has  tended  to 
intensify  individual  life  in  a  thousand  ways,  and  has  gloried  in  the 
varieties  of  disposition  and  character  which  the  full  life  of  the  Spirit 
develops.  1  he  Church  expects  to  see  the  same  variety  of  life  in 
herself  as  she  witnesses  in  Nature. 

‘  One  and  the  same  rain,’  says  St.  Cyril  of  Jerusalem  to  his  cate¬ 
chumens,  ‘  comes  down  upon  all  the  world,  yet  it  becomes  white  in 
the  lily,  and  red  in  the  rose,  and  purple  in  the  violets  and  pansies, 
and  different  and  various  in  all  the  several  kinds  ;  it  is  one  thing  in 
the  palm-tree,  and  another  in  the  vine,  and  all  in  all  things.  In 
itself,  indeed,  it  is  uniform  and  changes  not,  but  by  adapting  itself 
to  the  nature  of  each  thing  that  receives  it,  it  becomes  what  is  ap¬ 
propriate  to  each.  Thus  also  the  Holy  Ghost,  one  and  uniform 
and  undivided  in  Himself,  distributes  His  grace  to  every  man  as 
He  wills.  He  employs  the  tongue  of  one  man  for  wisdom  ;  the  soul 
of  another  He  enlightens  by  prophecy  ;  to  another  He  gives  power 
to  drive  away  devils ;  to  another  He  gives  to  interpret  the  Divine 
Scriptures;  He  invigorates  one  man’s  self-command;  He  teaches 
another  the  way  to  give  alms ;  another  He  teaches  to  fast  and  train 
himself ;  another  He  trains  for  martyrdom  ;  diverse  to  different  men, 
yet  not  diverse  from  Himself.’ 2 

Nor  was  this  belief  in  the  differences  of  the  Spirit’s  work  a  mere 
abstract  theory.  In  fact  the  Church  life  of  the  early  centuries  did 
present  an  aspect  of  great  variety  :  not  only  in  the  dispositions  of 
individuals,  for  that  will  always  be  observable  where  human  nature 
is  allowed  to  subsist,  but  in  the  types  of  life  and  thought  cultivated 
in  different  parts  of  the  Church.  Early  in  the  life  of  Christianity 
did  something  like  the  Roman  type  of  Catholicism  show  itself,  but 
it  showed  itself  as  one  among  several  types  of  ecclesiasticism,  easily 
distinguishable  from  what  Alexandria  or  Africa  or  Antioch  nour- 
ished  and  produced. 

And  what  is  true  in  the  life  of  religion  as  a  whole  is  true  in  the 

1  Basil,  de  Spiritu  Sancto,  ix.  23  (Lewis’  translation).  Cf.  Newman’s 
Univ.  Sermons,  *  Personal  Influence  the  means  of  propagating  the  truth.’ 

2  Cyril,  Catech.,  xvi.  12.  The  attention  to  the  differences  of  individual 
character  is  very  noticeable  in  St.  Basil’s  monastic  rule ;  see  the  Regulae 
fusius  tractatse,  resp.  19,  and  the  Constit.  Monast.,  4.  Also  in  the  writings 
of  Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  Chrysostom,  and  Gregory  the  Great  on  the  Pastoral 
Office. 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration.  271 

department  of  the  intellect.  Here  again  the  authority  of  the  col¬ 
lective  society,  the  ‘  rule  of  faith’  is  meant  to  nourish  and  quicken, 
not  to  crush,  individuality.  Each  individual  Christian  owes  the 
profoundest  deference  to  the  common  tradition.  Thus  to  ‘  keep 
the  traditions’  is  at  all  times,  and  not  least  in  Scripture,  a  common 
Christian  exhortation.  But  this  common  tradition  is  not  meant  to 
be  a  merely  external  law.  It  is  meant  to  pass  by  the  ordinary  pro¬ 
cesses  of  education  into  the  individual  consciousness,  and  there, 
because  it  represents  truth,  to  impart  freedom.  Thus  St.  Paul 
speaks  of  the  developed  Christian,  ‘  the  man  who  is  spiritual,’  as 
‘judging  all  things  and  himself  judged  of  none.’  And  St.  John 
makes  the  ground  of  Christian  certainty  to  lie  not  in  an  external 
authority,  but  in  a  personal  gift :  ‘  ye  have  an  unction  from  the 
Holy  One,  and  ye  know  all  things ;  ’  ‘  ye  need  not  that  any  one 
teach  you.’ 1  There  is  then  an  individual  ‘  inspiration,’ 2  as  well  as 
an  inspiration  of  the  whole  body,  only  this  inspiration  is  not  barely 
individual  or  separatist.  As  it  proceeds  out  of  the  society,  so  it 
ends  in  it.  It  ends  by  making  each  person  more  individualized, 
more  developed  in  personal  characteristics,  but  for  that  very  reason 
more  conscious  of  his  own  incompleteness,  more  ready  to  recognize 
himself  as  only  one  member  of  the  perfect  Manhood. 

The  idea  of  authority  is  in  fact  a  perfectly  simple  one.  It  never 
received  better  expression  than  by  Plato  when  he  describes  it  as 
the  function  of  the  society  by  a  carefully  regulated  education  to 
implant  right  instincts,  right  affections  and  antipathies,  in  the  grow¬ 
ing  mind  of  the  child,  at  a  time  when  he  cannot  know  the  reason 
of  things  ;  in  order  that  as  the  mind  develops  it  may  recognize 
the  right  reason  of  things  by  a  certain  inner  kinship,  and  welcome 
truth  as  a  friend.3  Authority,  according  to  such  a  view  of  it,  is  a 
necessary  schooling  of  the  individual  temperament.  Thus,  we  are 
told  that  in  the  judgment  of  the  philosopher  Hegedp  The  basis 
of  sound  education  was  .  .  .  the  submission  of  the  mind  to  an 
external  lesson,  which  must  be  learnt  by  every  one,  and  even 
learnt  by  rote,  with  utter  disregard  of  individual  tastes  and  desires  ; 
only  out  of  this  self-abnegation,  and  submission  to  be  guided  and 
taught,  could  any  originality  spring  which  was  worth  preserving.’ 4 
In  fact,  we  all  recognize  the  necessity  for  such  external  discipline 
in  all  departments.  Few  people  like  good  art,  for  instance,  at 
first.  Probably  they  are  attracted  by  what  is  weak  but  arrests 

1  1  Cor.  ii.  15.  1  St.  John  ii.  20-27. 

2  Clement  Alex.,  Strom.,  v.  13,  88. 

3  Republic,  401  D,  402  A. 

4  Caird’s  Hegel  (Blackwood’s  Philosophical  Classics),  p.  72. 


272  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

attention  by  obvious  and  superficial  merits.  The  standards  which 
artistic  authority  has  erected,  the  accepted  canons  of  good  taste 
and  judgment,  do  not  commend  themselves  at  first  as  right  or 
natural.  But  modest  and  well-disposed  people  take  it  for  granted 
at  starting  that  the  orthodox  judgment  will  turn  out  to  be  right ; 
and  they  set  themselves  to  school  to  learn  why  the  artists  and 
poets  of  great  name  are  great,  till  their  own  judgment  becomes 
enlightened,  and  they  understand  what  at  first  they  took  on  trust. 
It  was  the  instinctive  perception  of  this  function  of  authority  which 
made  the  Church  insist  so  much  on  the  principle  ‘credo  ut  intel- 
ligam.’  The  Creed  represents  the  catholic  judgment,  the  highest 
knowledge  of  God  and  the  spiritual  life  granted  to  man  by  the 
Divine  Revelation.  Let  a  man  put  himself  to  school  in  the  Church 
with  reverence  and  godly  fear,  and  his  own  judgment  will  become 
enlightened.  He  will  come  to  say,  with  St.  Anselm,  ‘  I  give  Thee 
thanks,  good  Lord  ;  because  what  first  Jr  believed  by  Thy  gift,  I 
now  understand  by  Thy  illumination.’ 1 

Such  an  idea  of  authority  leaves  much  for  the  individual  to  do. 
It  is  the  reaction  of  the  individual  on  the  society  which  is  to  keep 
the  common  tradition  pure  and  unnarrowed.  The  Church  has  in 
Holy  Scripture  the  highest  expression  of  the  mind  of  Christ.  The 
familiarity  of  all  its  members  with  this  flawless  and  catholic  image 
is  to  ward  off  in  each  generation  that  tendency  to  deteriorate  and 
to  become  materialized  which  belongs  to  all  ‘traditions.’  The 
individual  illumination  is  thus  to  react  as  a  purifying  force  upon  the 
common  mind  of  the  Christian  society.  The  individual  Christian 
is  to  pay  the  debt  of  his  education,  by  himself  ‘  testing  all  things, 
and  holding  fast  that  which  is  good.’  Specially  gifted  individuals 
from  time  to  time  will  be  needed  to  effect  more  or  less  sudden 
‘  reversions  to  type,’  to  the  undying  type  of  Apostolic  teaching.2 
But  such  a  true  reformer  is  quite  distinct  in  idea  from  the  heretic. 
He  reforms ;  he  does  not  innovate.  His  note  is  to  restore ;  not 

1  Anselm,  Proslog.,  4 ;  be  adds :  ‘  So  that  even  if  I  were  unwilling  to 
beliez’e  that  Thou  art,  I  could  not  cease  to  understand  it.’  But  the  whole 
relation  of  authority  and  reason  is  most  completely  grasped  and  stated  by 
St.  Augustine  ;  see  Cunningham,  St.  Austin  (Cambridge  Univ.  Press,  1886), 

pp.  9,  157  ff. 

2  Dr.  Salmon,  Infallibility,  p.  115.  has  a  clever  comparison  of  the  authority 
of  the  Church  to  that  of  the  town  clock.  The  value  we  assign  to  having  such 
an  authoritative  standard  of  the  right  time  does  not  prevent  our  recognizing 
the  importance  of  having  it  regulated.  ‘And  if  we  desired  to  remove  an 
error  which  had  accumulated  during  a  long  season  of  neglect,  it  would  be 
very  unfair  to  represent  us  as  wishing  to  silence  the  clock,  or  else  as  wish¬ 
ing  to  allow  every  townsman  to  get  up  and  push  the  hands  backwards  and 
forwards  as  he  pleased.’ 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration.  273 

to  reject.  And  the  absence  of  necessity  for  fundamental  rejection 
comes  from  this  simple  fact,  that  the  Christian  Creed  is  rational 
and  true.  If  any  man  comes  to  us  and  says  that  he  has  studied 
and  assimilated  the  Christian  Creed  with  all  the  care  and  reverence 
in  his  ability,  and  has  rejected  it  because  he  finds  it  irrational  and 
false,  we  cannot  complain  of  him.1  We  cannot  ask  him  to  accept 
it  though  he  thinks  it  false.  We  do  not  at  all  complain  of  his 
having  inquired  and  thought  freely  - —  only  we  venture  to  assure 
him,  with  a  confidence  which  can  hardly  fail  to  be  irritating, 
because  it  is  confident,  that  he  is  mistaken,  that  he  has  thought 
not  only  freely,  but  erroneously.  When  Christianity  adopts,  as  in 
the  modern  Romanist  system,  a  different  tone,  proscribing  free 
inquiry  as  ‘rationalistic,’  and  making  the  appeal  to  antiquity  a 
‘  treason  and  a  heresy/  2  it  is  abjuring  its  own  rational  heritage,  and 
adopting  a  method  which  Charles  Kingsley  had  good  reason  to 
call  Manichsean.  It  is  the  test  of  the  Church’s  legitimate  tenure 
that  she  can  encourage  free  inquiry  into  her  title-deeds. 

3.  Thirdly,  the  Spirit  claims  for  His  own,  and  coJisecrates  the 
whole  of  nature.  One  Spirit  was  the  original  author  of  all  that  is  ; 
and  all  that  exists  is  in  its  essence  very  good.  It  is  only  sin  which 
has  produced  the  appearance  of  antagonism  between  the  Divine 
operation  and  human  freedom,  or  between  the  spiritual  and  the 
material.  Thus  the  humanity  of  Christ,  which  is  the  Spirit’s  per¬ 
fect  work,  exhibits  in  its  perfection  how  every  faculty  of  human 
nature,  spiritual  and  physical,  is  enriched  and  vitalized,  not  annihi¬ 
lated,  by  the  closest  conceivable  interaction  of  the  Divine  Energy. 
This  principle  as  carried  out  in  the  Church,  occupies  a  prominent 
place  in  the  earliest  theology ;  in  part  because  Montanism,  with  its 
pagan  idea  of  inspiration,  as  an  ecstasy  which  deprived  its  subject 
of  reason,  gave  the  Church  an  opportunity  of  emphasizing  that 
the  fullest  action  of  the  Spirit,  in  the  case  of  her  inspired  men, 
intensified  and  did  not  supersede  their  own  thought,  judgment,  and 
individuality  ;  still  more  because  Gnostic  dualism,  turning  every 
antithesis  of  nature  and  grace,  of  spirit  and  flesh,  of  natural  and 
supernatural,  into  an  antagonism,  forced  upon  the  Church  the 
assertion  of  her  own  true  and  comprehensive  Creed.  That  every¬ 
thing  in  Christianity  is  realized  ‘  in  flesh  as  in  spirit  ’  is  the  con¬ 
stantly  reiterated  cry  of  St.  Ignatius,  who  of  all  men  was  most 
‘spiritual.’  That  the  spiritual  is  not  the  immaterial,  that  we 
become  spiritual  not  by  any  change  or  curtailment  of  nature,  not 

1  But  cf.  pp.  163-165,  191-194,  214-216. 

2  Manning,  Temporal  Mission  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  third  edit.,  pp.  9,  29, 
238-240. 

18 


274  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

by  any  depreciation  or  ignoring  of  the  body,  is  the  constantly 
asserted  principle  of  St.  Irenaeus.1  And  the  earliest  writers  in 
general  emphasize  the  visible  organization  of  the  Church,  and  the 
institution  of  external  sacraments,  as  negations  of  the  false  prin¬ 
ciple  which  would  sunder  nature  from  God,  and  repudiate  the 
unity  of  the  material  and  the  spiritual  which  the  Word  had  been 
made  Flesh  in  order  to  reveal  and  to  perpetuate. 

4.  But  the  unity  of  the  spirit  and  the  flesh,  of  faith  and  experi¬ 
ence,  of  God  and  the  world,  is  certainly  not  an  accomplished  fact. 
On  the  contrary,  dualism  is  always  making  appeals  which  strike 
home  to  our  present  experience.  Thus  if  the  Church  was  to  main¬ 
tain  the  unity  of  all  things,  it  could  only  be  by  laying  great  stress 
upon  the  ravages  which  sin  had  wrought,  and  upon  the  gradual¬ 
ness  of  the  Spirit's  method  in  recovery.  The  Old  Testament,  for 
example,  presented  a  most  unspiritual  appearance.  Its  material 
sacrifices,  its  low  standard  of  morals,  its  worldliness,  were  con¬ 
stantly  being  objected  to  by  the  Gnostic  and  Manichsean  sects, 
who  could  not  tolerate  the  Old  Testament  canon.  ‘  But  you  are 
ignoring/  the  Church  replied,  ‘the  gradualness  of  the  Spirit’s 
method.’  He  lifts  man  by  little  and  little,  He  condescends  to 
man’s  infirmity ;  He  puts  up  with  him  as  he  is,  if  only  He  can  at 
the  last  bring  him  back  to  God. 

It  is  of  the  essence  of  the  New  Testament,  as  the  religion  of 
the  Incarnation,  to  be  final  and  catholic :  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
of  the  essence  of  the  Old  Testament  to  be  imperfect,  because  it 
represents  a  gradual  process  of  education  by  which  man  was  lifted 
out  of  depths  of  sin  and  ignorance.  That  this  is  the  case,  and 
that  in  consequence  the  justification  of  the  Old  Testament  method 
lies  not  in  itself  at  any  particular  stage,  but  in  its  result  taken  as  a 
whole,  is  a  thought  very  familiar  to  modern  Christians.2  But  it  is 
important  to  make  plain  that  it  was  a  thought  equally  familiar  to 

1  See,  for  instance,  c.  Haer.,  v.  10,  2.  ‘  The  wild  olive  does  not  change  its 

substance  [when  it  is  grafted  in,  see  Rom.  xi.  17],  but  only  the  quality  of 
its  fruit,  and  takes  a  new  name,  no  longer  being  called  an  oleaster,  but  an 
olive  ;  so  also  man  when  he  is  by  faith  grafted  in,  and  receives  the  Spirit  of 
God,  does  not  lose  his  fleshly  substance,  but  changes  the  quality  of  the 
works  which  are  his  fruits,  and  takes  another  name  indicating  his  improved 
condition,  and  is  no  longer  described  as  flesh  and  blood,  but  as  a  spiritual 
man.’  So  also  v.  6,  1,  ‘whom  the  Apostle  calls  “spiritual”  because  they 
have  the  Spirit,  not  because  they  have  been  robbed  of  the  flesh  and  become 
bare  spirit.’  It  is  the  recognition  of  this  principle  that  makes  most  of  the 
language  of  the  Fathers  on  fasting  so  healthy  and  sensible.  The  end  of 
fasting  is  not  to  destroy  the  flesh,  but  to  free  the  spirit. 

2  See  especially  Mozley’s  Lectures  on  the  Old  Testament,  x. :  ‘The  end 
the  test  of  progressive  revelation.’ 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration . 


275 


the  Fathers  of  the  Christian  Church.  Thus  St.  Gregory  of  Nazi- 
anzus,  speaking  of  God's  dealings  with  the  Jews  of  old,  describes 
how,  in  order  to  gain  the  co-operation  of  man’s  good  will  in  work¬ 
ing  for  his  recovery,  He  dealt  ‘  after  the  manner  of  a  schoolmaster 
or  a  physician,  and  while  curtailing  part  of  their  ancestral  customs, 
tolerated  the  rest,  making  some  concession  to  their  tastes,  just  as 
physicians  make  their  medicines  palatable  that  they  may  be  taken 
by  their  patients.  For  men  do  not  easily  abandon  what  long 
custom  has  consecrated.  Thus  the  first  law,  while  it  abolished 
their  idols,  tolerated  their  sacrifices  ;  the  second,  while  it  abolished 
their  sacrifices,  allowed  them  to  be  circumcised  :  then  when  once 
they  had  accepted  the  removal  of  what  was  taken  from  them,  they 
went  further  and  gave  up  what  had  been  conceded  to  them,  —  in 
the  first  case  their  sacrifices,  in  the  second  their  practice  of  circum¬ 
cision, —  and  they  became  instead  of  heathens,  Jews,  instead  of 
Jews,  Christians,  being  betrayed  as  it  were  by  gradual  changes  into 
acceptance  of  the  Gospel.’ 1  Again,  St.  Chrysostom  explains  how 
it  is  the  very  merit  of  the  Old  Testament  that  it  has  taught  us  to 
think  things  intolerable,  which  under  it  were  tolerated.  ‘  Do  not 
ask,’  he  says,  ‘how  these  [Old  Testament  precepts]  can  be  good, 
now  when  the  need  for  them  is  past :  ask  how  they  were  good 
when  the  period  required  them.  Or  rather,  if  you  wish,  do  inquire 
into  their  merit  even  now.  It  is  still  conspicuous,  and  lies  in 
nothing  so  much  as  what  now  enables  us  to  find  fault  with  them. 
Their  highest  praise  is  that  we  now  see  them  to  be  defective.  If 
they  had  not  trained  us  well,  so  that  we  became  susceptible  of 
higher  things,  we  should  not  have  now  seen  their  deficiency.’ 
Then  he  shows  how  under  the  old  law  swearing  by  the  true  God 
was  allowed,  to  avoid  swearing  by  idols,  the  worse  ill.  ‘But  is  not 
swearing  at  all  of  the  evil  one?’  he  asks.  ‘Undoubtedly,  now, 
after  this  long  course  of  training,  but  then  not.  And  how  can  the 
same  thing  be  good  at  one  time,  and  bad  at  another?  I  ask  rather, 
how  should  it  not  be  so,  when  we  have  regard  to  the  plain  teaching 
of  the  fact  of  growth  in  all  things,  fruits  of  the  earth  or  acquirements 
of  man?  Look  at  man’s  own  nature ;  the  food,  the  occupations 
which  suit  his  infancy,  are  repulsive  to  his  manhood.  Or  consider 
facts  of  history.  All  agree  that  murder  is  an  invention  of  Satan, 

1  Greg.  Naz.,  Orat.  xxxi.  25.  Many  of  the  greatest  of  the  ancient  Christian 
writers  depreciate  the  sacrificial  law  as  a  mere  concession  made  to  avoid 
worse  things,  when  the  incident  of  the  calf  showed  that  the  first  legislation 
of  the  Ten  Commandments  was  too  spiritual;  so  Jerome  in  Isai.  i.  12,  in 
Jer;  vii  21.  Cf.  Justin,  Trypho,  19.  Chrys.,  adv.  Jud.,  iv.  6.  Epiphan.,  Haer., 
lxvi.  71.  Constt.  ap.,  i.  6;  vi.  20.  This  method  of  interpretation  is  perhaps 
derived  from  the  Epistle  of  Barnabas,  2-4. 


276  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

yet  this  very  act  at  a  suitable  time  made  Phineas  to  be  honored 
with  the  high  priesthood.  Phineas’  murder  “  was  reckoned  to  him 
for  righteousness.”  Just  in  the  same  way  Abraham  'obtained  an 
even  higher  honor  for  being  not  a  murderer  only,  but  what  was 
much  worse,  a  child-murderer.  We  must  not  then  look  at  the 
facts  in  themselves  only,  but  investigate  with  attention  the  period 
also,  the  cause,  the  motive,  the  difference  of  persons,  and  all  the 
attendant  circumstances  :  so  only  can  one  get  at  the  truth.’ 1 

Once  more  St.  Basil :  ‘  Surely  it  is  absolutely  infantile  and  worthy 
of  a  child  who  must  be  really  fed  on  milk,  to  be  ignorant  of  the 
great  mystery  of  our  salvation  —  that  just  as  we  received  our 
earliest  instruction,  so,  in  exercising  unto  godliness  and  going  on 
unto  perfection,  we  were  first  trained  by  lessons  easy  to  apprehend 
and  suited  to  our  intelligence.  He  Who  regulates  our  lives  deals 
with  us  as  those  who  have  been  reared  in  darkness,  and  gradually 
accustoms  our  eyes  to  the  light  of  truth.  For  He  spares  our 
weakness,  and  in  the  depth  of  the  riches  of  His  wisdom  and  the 
unsearchable  judgments  of  His  understanding  adopts  this  gentle 
treatment,  so  well  adapted  to  our  needs,  accustoming  us  first  to 
see  the  shadow  of  objects,  and  to  look  at  the  sun’s  reflection  in 
water,  so  that  we  may  not  be  suddenly  blinded  by  the  exposure 
to  the  pure  light.  By  parity  of  reasoning,  the  law  being  a  shadow 
of  things  to  come,  and  the  typical  teaching  of  the  prophets,  which 
is  the  truth  darkly,  have  been  devised  as  exercises  for  the  eyes  of 
the  heart,  inasmuch  as  it  will  be  easy  for  us  to  pass  from  these  to 
wisdom  hidden  in  mystery.’  2 

In  the  same  spirit  was  the  Church’s  answer  to  the  difficulties 
which  facts  of  personal  experience  were  constantly  putting  in  the 
way  of  her  claims.  Churchmen  were  frequently  seen  to  be  vulgar, 
ignorant,  imperfect,  sinful.  If,  in  spite  of  manifold  evils  existing 
within  her,  the  Church  could  still  appeal  to  her  fruits,  it  must  be 
by  comparison  with  what  was  to  be  found  elsewhere,  or  by  taking 
in  a  large  area  for  comparison,  or  by  appealing  to  her  special 
grounds  of  hope.  In  fact,  what  she  represented  was  a  hope,  not 
a  realization ;  a  tendency,  not  a  result ;  a  life  in  process,  not 
a  ripened  fruit.  But  then  she  claimed  that  this  was  God’s  way. 
1  He  loves  us  not  as  we  are,  but  as  we  are  becoming.’ 3  Let  but  a 

1  Chrys.,  in  Matth.,  Homil.  xvii.  5-6  (slightly  abbreviated).  Cf.  Libell. 
Faustin.  et  Marcellin.,  in  Bibl.  Vet.  Patrum,  tom.  v.  657  d. 

2  On  the  Holy  Spirit,  xiv.  33  (Lewis’  trans.). 

3  Aug.,  de  Trin.,  i.  10,  21.  This  principle  alone  gives  a  basis  for  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  ‘  imputation  ’  so  far  as  it  is  true.  God  deals  with  us,  e.  g.  in  absolu¬ 
tion,  by  anticipation  of  what  is  to  come  about  in  us,  in  Christ. 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration .  277 

man  once  lay  hold  of  the  life-giving  principle  of  faith,  and  God 
sets  a  value  on  him,  life  has  a  promise  for  him,  altogether  out  of 
proportion  to  present  attainments.  For  God  estimates  him,  in 
view  of  all  the  forces  of  a  new  life  which  are  set  loose  to  work 
upon  him,  and  he  can  assure  himself  that  the  movement  of 
recovery  which  he  has  begun  to  feel  stirring  within  him  will  carry 
him  on  through  eternal  ages,  beyond  what  he  can  ask  or  think. 

It  is  because  of  this  gradualness  of  the  Spirit’s  method  that 
it  lays  so  great  a  strain  on  human  patience.  The  spiritually 
minded  of  all  ages  have  tended  to  find  the  visible  Church  a  very 
troubled  and  imperfect  home.  Most  startling  disclosures  of  the 
actual  state  of  ecclesiastical  disorder  and  moral  collapse,  may  be 
gathered  out  of  the  Christian  Fathers.  Thus  to  found  a  ‘  pure 
Church  ’  has  been  the  instinct  of  impatient  zeal  since  Tertullian’s 
day.  But  the  instinct  has  to  be  restrained,  the  visible  Church  has 
to  be  borne  with,  because  it  is  the  Spirit’s  purpose  to  provide  a 
home  for  the  training  and  improvement  of  the  imperfect.  ‘  Let 
both  grow  together  unto  the  harvest.’  ‘A  bruised  reed  will  He 
not  break,  and  smoking  flax  will  He  not  quench.’  The  Church 
must  have  her  terms  of  communion,  moral  and  intellectual ;  this 
is  essential  to  keep  her  fundamental  principles  intact,  and  to  pre¬ 
vent  her  betraying  her  secret  springs  of  strength  and  recovery. 
But  short  of  this  necessity  she  is  tolerant.  It  is  her  note  to  be 
tolerant,  morally  and  theologically.  She  is  the  mother,  not  the 
magistrate.  No  doubt  her  balanced  duty  is  one  difficult  to  ful¬ 
fil.  At  times  she  has  been  puritanical,  at  others  morally  lax ;  at 
times  doctrinally  lax,  at  others  rigid.  But  however  well  or  ill  she 
has  fulfilled  the  obligations  laid  on  her,  this  is  her  ideal.  She 
is  the  guardian,  the  depository  of  a  great  gift,  a  mighty  presence, 
which  in  its  essence  is  unchanging  and  perfect,  but  is  realized 
very  imperfectly  in  her  experience  and  manifested  life.  This  is 
what  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  means  when  he  says  ‘  that  to  believe 
in  the  Church  is  only  possible  if  we  mean  by  it  to  believe  in 
the  Spirit  vivifying  the  Church.7 1  The  true  self  of  the  Church 
is  the  Holy  Spirit ;  but  a  great  deal  m  the  Church  at  any  date  does 
not  belong  to  her  true  self,  and  is  obscuring  the  Spirit’s  mind. 
Thus  the  treasure  is  in  earthen  vessels,  it  is  sometimes  a  light  hid 
under  a  bushel ;  and  the  Church  is  the  probation  of  faith,  as  well 
as  its  encouragement. 

It  will  not  be  out  of  place  to  conclude  this  review  of  the  Spirit’s 
method  in  the  Church  by  calling  attention  to  the  emphasis  which, 
from  the  first,  Christians  laid  upon  the  fact  that  the  animating 
principle  both  of  their  individual  lives  and  of  their  society  as  a 

1  Thom.  Aq  ,  Summa  Theol.,  pars  sec.  sec.,  Qu.  i,  Art.  ix. 


278 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


whole,  was  nothing  less  than  the  Holy  Spirit  Himself.  To  know 
Him  was  (as  against  all  the  philosophical  schools,  and  in  a  sense 
in  which  the  same  could  not  be  said  even  of  the  Divine  Word) 
their  peculiar  privilege,  to  possess  Him  their  summary  character¬ 
istic.  Under  the  old  covenant,  and  in  all  the  various  avenues  of 
approach  to  the  Church,  men  could  be  the  subjects  of  the  Spirit’s 
guidance  and  could  be  receiving  gifts  from  Him  ;  but  the  ‘  initi¬ 
ated  ’  Christian,  baptized  and  confirmed,  possessed  not  merely  His 
gifts  but  Himself.  He  is  in  the  Church,  as  the  4  Vicar  of  Christ/ 
in  Whose  presence  Christ  Himself  is  with  them.  He  is  the  con- 
secrator  of  every  sacrament,  and  the  substance  of  His  own  sacra¬ 
mental  gifts.  The  services  of  ordained  men  indeed  are  required 
for  the  administration  of  sacraments,  but  as  ministers  simply  of  a 
Power  higher  than  themselves,  of  a  Personal  Spirit  Who  indeed  is 
invoked  by  their  ministry,  and  pledges  Himself  to  respond  to  their 
invocations,  but  never  subjects  Himself  to  their  power.  Therefore 
the  unworthiness  of  the  minister  diminishes  in  no  way  the  efficacy 
of  the  sacrament,  or  the  reality  of  the  gift  given,  because  the  min¬ 
istry  of  men  neither  creates  the  gift  nor  adds  to  or  diminishes  its 
force.  He  is  the  giver  of  the  gift,  and  the  gift  He  gives  is  the 
same  to  all.  Only  the  meagreness  of  human  faith  and  love 
restrains  the  largeness  of  His  bounty  and  conditions  the  Thing 
received  by  the  narrowness  and  variability  of  the  faculty  which 
receives  it.  According  to  our  faith  is  it  done  to  us,  and  where 
there  is  no  faith  and  no  love,  there  the  grace  is  equally,  in  St. 
Augustine’s  phrase,  present  and  profitless.1 

II.  In  something  of  this  way  the  early  Christian  writers  —  and 
it  has  seemed  better  to  let  them  speak  for  us  —  teach  the  doctrine 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  What  they  teach  is  grounded  in  part  on  actual 
experience,  in  part  on  the  revelation  of  the  being  and  action  of 
God  made  once  for  all  in  the  Person  of  Jesus  Christ  and  recorded 
in  the  New  Testament.  On  this  mingled  basis  of  experience  and 
Holy  Scripture  they  passed  back  from  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy 

1  The  above  paragraph  is  a  summary  of  expressions  constantly  met  with 
in  the  Fathers.  It  is  St.  Ambrose  who  protests  against  the  idea  that  the 
priest  can  be  spoken  of  as  having  power  over  the  Divine  Things  which  he 
ministers  ;  see  De  Spiritu  Sancto,  praef.  18,  lib.  i.  11,  118  :  ‘  Nostra  sunt  ser- 
vitia  sed  tua  sacramenta.  Neque  enim  humanae  opis  est  divina  conferred 
St.  Augustine,  among  others,  draws  the  distinction  between  gifts  from  the 
Spirit  and  the  gift  of  Himself.  Ep.  cxciv. :  ‘  Aliter  adiuvat  nondum  inhabi- 
tans,  aliter  inhabitans :  nam  nondum  inhabitans  adiuvat  ut  sint  fideles, 
inhabitans  adiuvat  iam  fideles.’  Didymus,  de  Spiritu  Sancto  15,  calls  atten¬ 
tion  to  the  distinction  in  the  New  Testament  between  ir vev/jia  (without  the 
article),  i.  e.,  ‘  a  spiritual  gift,’  and  t  b  tt  uev/xa,  i.  e.,  the  Spirit  Himself;  cf. 
Westcott  on  St.  John  vii.  39. 


2;9 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration . 

Spirit  as  He  is  operative  in  the  world,  to  the  Theology  of  His 
Person.  They  passed  back  but  slowly,  with  great  hesitation,  even 
unwillingness.  Nothing,  we  may  say,  was  further  removed  from 
the  Fathers  than  the  easy-going  assumption  that  because  we  are 
the  subjects  of  a  revelation,  therefore  we  are  able  to  speculate  with 
tolerably  complete  information  about  the  mysteries  which  lie  beyond 
experience.  The  truth  that  ‘  we  know  in  part,’  we  see  ‘  in  a  glass 
darkly,’  was  profoundly  impressed  upon  their  minds.  God  mani¬ 
fested  Himself,  St.  Gregory  of  Nazianzus  tells,  in  such  a  way  as  to 
escape  the  nets  of  our  syllogisms,  and  to  show  Himself  superior 
to  our  logical  distinctions.  If  we  expect  to  find  our  logic  equal  to 
express  Him,  we  show  only  our  mad  presumption,  ‘we  who  are  not 
able  even  to  know  what  lies  at’our  feet,  or  to  count  the  waves  of 
the  sea,  or  the  drops  of  rain,  or  the  days  of  the  world,  much  less 
to  fathom  the  depths  of  God,  and  give  account  of  His  nature, 
which  transcends  alike  our  reason  and  our  power  of  expres¬ 
sion.’  1  Besides  this,  the  early  theologians  realized  the  obliga¬ 
tion  of  keeping  to  Holy  Scripture- — of  not  being  wise  ‘above 
that  which  is  written  ’  —  and  they  were  conscious  of  the  danger 
of  building  on  isolated  texts  of  Scripture  or  of  treating  its 
‘  simple  and  untechnical  ’  language  as  if  it  was  the  language  of 
a  formal  treatise.2 

For  these  reasons  they  were  cautious  in  theological  speculation. 
Yet  the  facts  and  relationships  introduced  into  the  world  of  expe¬ 
rience  by  the  revelation  of  the  Son  represent  eternal  realities,  if 
under  great  limitations,  yet  still  truly,  and  thus  make  possible  a  real 
security  up  to  a  certain  point  on  what  lies  beyond  the  unassisted 
human  knowledge.  Thus,  first,  when  the  Arian  movement  passed 
from  the  denial  of  the  true  Godhead  of  Christ  to  a  similar  posi¬ 
tion  with  reference  to  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  Christian  Church  felt 
itself  fully  justified  alike  by  its  past  traditions,3  and  by  its 
Scriptures,  in  emphasizing  the  personal  distinctness  and  the  true 
Godhead  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Unless  all  Christ’s  language  was 
an  illusion,  the  Holy  Spirit  was  really  personal  and  really  distinct 
from  Himself  and  the  Father ;  nor  could  One  who  was  associated 
with  the  Father  and  the  Son  in  all  the  essentially  Divine  operations 
of  nature  and  grace,  be  less  than  truly  and  really  God,  an  essential 
element  in  the  Eternal  Being.  The  Arian  controversy  in  its 

1  Greg.  Naz.,  Orat.  xxxi.  8. 

2  See  Athan.,  Epp.  ad  Serapion,  i.  17.  Cyril  Hieros.,  Cat.,  xvi.  24. 
Iren.,  v.  13,  2.  Basil,  de  Spiritu  Sancto,  iii.  5. 

3  The  Diet,  of  Chr.  Biog.,  Art.  ‘Holy  Ghost’  (by  Dr.  Swete),  has  an 
admirable  summary  of  the  theology  of  the  subject. 


280  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

earlier  stages  had  disposed  of  the  notion  that  Christian  theology 
could  at  any  cost  admit  the  conception  of  a  created  personality, 
clothed  with  Divine  attributes  and  exercising  Divine  functions. 

Secondly,  the  consideration  that  the  relations  manifested  in  the 
Incarnation  in  terms  of  our  experience  between  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  express  transcendent  and  eternal  rela¬ 
tions,  led  the  Church  to  speak  of  the  Holy  Ghost  as  proceeding 
from  the  Father,  as  the  unique  fount  of  Godhead,  through  the 
Son  :  or  in  somewhat  less  nicely  discriminated  language  ‘  from  the 
Father  and  the  Son.’ 1  In  the  fifth  century  there  is  a  tendency  to 
use  in  the  East  the  former,  in  the  West  the  latter  mode  of  expres¬ 
sion,  but  without  any  essential  difference.  Nor  can  it  be  said  that 
the  causes  which  were  at  work  later  to  divide  the  Eastern  and 
the  Western  Churches  on  the  subject  of  the  procession  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  were  so  much  really  theological  as  ecclesiastical  and 
political. 

Thirdly,  the  accurate  consideration  of  the  language  in  which  is 
expressed  the  relation  of  Christ  to  the  Holy  Spirit,  helped  the 
Church  to  guard  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  from  the  associations  of 
Tritheism.  For  the  coming  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  clearly  spoken 
of  in  Holy  Scripture  as  coincident  with  and  involving  the  coming 
of  Christ.  ‘  While  we  are  illuminated  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  it  is 
Christ  Who  illuminates  us ;  when  we  drink  in  the  Spirit,  it  is  Christ 
we  drink.’  The  Spirit  is  distinct  from  Christ, —  ‘  another  Para¬ 
clete,’ —  yet  in  His  coming,  Christ  comes;  in  His  indwelling  is 
the  indwelling  of  the  Father  and  the  Son.2  How  can  this  be? 
Because  the  ‘  Persons’  of  the  Holy  Trinity  are  not  to  be  thought  of 
as  distinct  individuals,  as  three  Gods.  No  doubt  in  our  ordinary 
language,  persons  are  understood  to  be  separate,  and  mutually 
exclusive  beings.  Even  in  regard  to  ourselves  deeper  reflection 
shows  us  that  our  personalities  are  very  far  from  being  as  separate 
as  they  appear  to  be  on  the  surface  ;  and  with  regard  to  God,  it 
was  only  with  an  expressed  apology  for  the  imperfection  of  human 
language  that  the  Church  spoke  of  the  Divine  Three,  as  Three 
Persons  at  all.  But  ‘we  have  no  celestial  language,’  and  the  word 
is  the  only  one  which  will  express  what  Christ’s  language  implies 
about  Himself,  the  Father,  and  the  Spirit.  Only  while  we  use  it, 
it  must  be  understood  to  express  mutual  inclusion,  not  mutual 
exclusion. 

Wherever  the  Father  works,  He  works  essentially  and  inevitably 

1  See  Godet  on  St.  John  xv.  26,  27. 

2  Athan.,  Epp.  ad  Serap.,  i.  19.  S.  John  xiv.  16,  18,  23. 


28r 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration. 

through  the  Son  and  the  Spirit ;  whenever  the  Son  acts.  He  acts 
from  the  Father  by  the  Holy  Spirit ;  whenever  the  Holy  Spirit 
comes,  He  brings  with  Him  in  His  coming  the  Son  and  the 
Father.  Thus  when  an  image  was  necessary  to  interpret  in  part 
the  Divine  relationships,  the  Fathers  sought  it  nowhere  so  much  as 
in  the  three  distinct  yet  inseparable  elements  of  man’s  spiritual 
nature ;  the  triune  character  of  which  Plato  had  already  brought 
into  notice,  and  which  is  in  fact  an  earthly  image,  however  inade¬ 
quate,  of  the  Triune  God.1 

III.  Hitherto  nothing  has  been  said  about  that  part  of  the 
Holy  Spirit’s  work  which  is  called  the  inspiration  of  Scripture. 
It  has  been  kept  to  the  last  because  of  the  great  importance  of 
putting  it  in  context  with  less  familiar  truths.  The  Scriptures 
have,  it  is  a  commonplace  to  say,  suffered  greatly  from  being  iso¬ 
lated.  This  is  as  true  whether  we  are  considering  them  as  a 
source  of  evidence  or  as  the  sphere  of  inspiration. 

As  a  source  of  evidence  they  contain  the  record  of  historical 
facts  with  some  of  which  at  any  rate  the  Creed  of  Christendom  is 

1  Plato’s  human  trinity  is  made  up  of  reason,  spirit  [fluids],  and  desire:  St. 
Augustine’s  of  memory  (/.  e.,  personal  identity),  reason,  and  will;  or  mind, 
knowledge,  and  love.  Nothing  has  been  said  in  the  text  of  Patristic  and 
more  recent  attempts  to  express  the  function  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  inner 
relations  of  the  Trinity.  Some  of  the  Fathers  speak  of  the  Holy  .Spirit  as 
completing  the  circle  of  the  Divine  Life,  or  as  ‘the  return  of  God  upon 
Himself,’  ‘the  bond  of  the  Father  and  the  Son.’  This  eternal  function 
would  interpret  His  temporal  mission  to  bring  all  creatures  back  into  union 
with  God.  Not  very  differently  St.  Augustine  speaks  of  Him  as  the  Love 
of  the  Father  and  the  Son:  ‘Vides  Trinitatem  si  caritatem  vides.  Ecce 
tria  sunt;  amans  et  quod  amatur  et  amor.’  And  this  Love  is  itself  personal 
and  co-ordinate:  ‘commune  aliquid  est  Patris  et  Filii ;  at  ipsa  communio 
consubstantialis  et  coaeterna.’  But  in  such  speculation  they  allow  themselves 
with  much  reserve  and  expression  of  unwillingness. 

In  fact  it  is  easy  to  see  that  an  eternally  living  God,  knowing  and  loving, 
must  be  a  God  Whose  Being  involves  eternal  relationships.  Knowledge  in¬ 
volves  a  relation  of  subject  and  object:  to  make  love  possible  there  must  be 
a  lover  and  a  loved.  It  is  more  difficult  to  see  how  a  perfect  relationship 
must  be  threefold  ;  but  there  are  true  lines  of  thought  which  lead  up  to  this, 
such,  for  instance,  as  make  us  see  first  in  the  family,  the  type  of  complete 
life.  Love  which  is  only  a  relation  of  two,  is  selfish  or  unsatisfied  :  it 
demands  an  object  and  a  product  of  mutual  love.  See  especially  Richard 
of  St.  Victor,  de  Trim,  Pars  i.  lib.  iii.  cc.  14,  15:  ‘Communio  amoris  non 
potest  esse  omnino  minus  quam  in  tribus  personis.  Nihil  autem  (ut  dictum 
Vst)  gloriosius,  nihil  magnificentius,  quam  quicquid  habes  utile  et  dulce  in 
cd^imune  deducere\  .  .  .  hujusmodi  dulcedinis  delicias  solus  non  possidet 
qui  in  exhibita  sibi  dilectione  socium  et  condilectum  non  habet ;  quamdiu 
condileetwn  non  habet,  praecipui  gaudii  communione  caret.’  See  also  Sarto- 
rius,  Doctrine  of  Divine  Love  (Clark’s  Foreign  Theol.  Libr.),  p.  16. 


282  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

inseparably  interwoven.  Thus  it  is  impossible  for  Christians  who 
know  what  they  are  about,  to  underestimate  the  importance  of 
the  historical  evidence  for  those  facts  at  least  of  which  the  Creed 
contains  a  summary.  But  the  tendency  with  books  of  historical 
evidence  has  been,  at  least  till  recently,  to  exaggerate  the  extent 
to  which  the  mere  evidence  of  remote  facts  can  compel  belief. 
What  we  should  make  of  the  New  Testament  record,  what  esti¬ 
mate  we  should  be  able  to  form  of  the  Person  of  J  esus  Christ  and 
the  meaning  of  His  life  and  work,  if  it  was  contained  simply  in 
some  old  manuscripts,  or  unearthed  in  some  way  by  antiquaries 
out  of  the  Syrian  sand,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  In  order  to  have 
grounds  for  believing  the  facts,  in  order  to  be  susceptible  of  their 
evidence,  we  require  an  antecedent  state  of  conception  and 
expectation.  A  whole  set  of  presuppositions  about  God,  about 
the  slavery  of  sin,  about  the  reasonableness  of  redemption,  must 
be  present  with  us.  So  only  can  the  facts  presented  to  us  in  the  „ 
Gospel  come  to  us  as  credible  things,  or  as  parts  of  an  intelligible 
universe,  correlated  elements  in  a  rational  whole.  Now  the  work 
of  the  Spirit  in  the  Church  has  been  to  keep  alive  and  real  these 
presuppositions,  this  frame  of  mind.  He  convinces  of  sin,  of 
righteousness,  of  judgment.  He  does  this  not  merely  in  isolated 
individuals,  however  numerous,  but  in  an  organized  continuous 
society.  The  spiritual  life  of  the  Church  assures  me  that  in  desir¬ 
ing  union  with  God,  in  feeling  the  burden  of  sin,  in  hungering  for 
redemption,  I  am  not  doing  an  eccentric,  abnormal  thing.  I  am 
doing  only  what  belongs  to  the  best  and  richest  movement  of 
humanity.  More  than  this,  it  assures  me  that  assent  to  the  claims 
and  promises  of  Jesus  Christ  satisfies  these  spiritual  needs  in  such 
a  way  as  to  produce  the  strongest,  the  most  lasting,  the  most 
catholic  sort  of  human  character.  The  historical  life  of  the  Church 
thus  in  every  age  1  setting  to  its  seal  ’  that  God’s  offer  in  Christ  is 
true,  reproduces  the  original  ‘  witness,’  commends  it  to  conscience 
and  reason,  spans  the  gulf  of  the  ages,  and  brings  down  remote 
and  alien  incidents  into  close  and  intelligible  familiarity.  Lotze 
speaks  of  revelation  as  ‘  either  contained  in  some  divine  act  of 
historic  occurrence  or  continually  repeated  in  men’s  hearts.’ 1 
But  in  fact  the  antithesis  is  not  an  alternative.  The  strength  of 
the  Christian  Creed  is  that  it  is  both.  It  is  a  revelation  continu¬ 
ously  renewed  in  men’s  hearts  by  an  organized  and  systematic 
operation  of  the  Spirit  in  the  Church,  while  at  the  same  time  it 
finds  its  guarantee  and  security  in  certain  Divine  acts  of  historic 
occurrence. 

1  Microcosmus,  B.  ix.  C.  iv.  (E.  T.,  ii.  66o.) 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration.  283 

Once  more,  the  belief  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  as  inspired  re¬ 
quires  to  be  held  in  context  by  the  belief  in  the  general  action  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  upon  the  Christian  society  and  the  individual  soul. 
It  is,  we  may  perhaps  say,  becoming  more  and  more  difficult 
to  believe  in  the  Bible  without  believing  in  the  Church.  The 
Apostles,  indeed,  —  and  the  New  Testament  canon  consists  largely 
of  the  words  of  Apostles,  —  have  an  authority  which,  reasonably 
considered,  is  unique,  and  stands  by  itself  as  that  of  the  accredited 
witnesses  of  Christ ;  but  when  we  find  them  appealing  to  members 
of  the  Church,  they  appeal  not  as  the  possessors  of  an  absolute 
authority  or  of  a  Spirit  in  which  others  do  not  share.  They  are 
the  ministers  of  a  ‘  tradition  ’  to  which  they  themselves  are  subject, 
a  tradition  ‘  once  for  all  delivered  :  ’ 1  they  appeal  to  those  who 
hear  them  as  men  ‘  who  have  an  unction  from  the  Holy  One  and 
know  all  things.’  The  tone  in  fact  of  the  Apostolic  writers  forces 
us  to  regard  the  spirit  in  which  the  Church  lives,  as  co-operating 
with,  and  in  a  real  sense  limiting,  the  spirit  in  which  they  them¬ 
selves  speak  and  write.  Thus  in  fact  the  Apostolic  writings  were 
written  as  occasion  required,  within  the  Church,  and  for  the 
Church.  They  presuppose  membership  in  it  and  familiarity  with 
its  tradition.  They  are  secondary,  not  primary,  instructors ;  for 
edification,  not  for  initiation.  Nor,  in  fact,  can  a  hard  and  fast 
line  be  drawn  between  what  lies  within  and  what  lies  without  the 
canon.  For  example,  Protestantism  of  an  unecclesiastical  sort 
has  built  upon  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  as  much  as  upon  any 
book  of  the  New  Testament.  This  book  is  of  unknown  author¬ 
ship.  If 1  Pauline,’  it  is  pretty  certainly  not  St.  Paul’s.  In  large 
part  it  is  the  judgment  of  the  Church  which  enables  us  to  draw  a 
line  between  it  and  St.  Clement’s  ‘  scripture.’  The  line  indeed 
our  own  judgment  approves.  The  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  and 
St.  Clement’s  letter  are  closely  linked  together,  but  the  latter 
depends  on  the  former :  it  is  secondary,  and  the  other  is  primary. 
Yet  how  narrow  is  the  historical  interval  between  them  !  How 
impossible  to  tear  the  one  from  the  other  !  How  seemingly  irra¬ 
tional  to  attribute  absolute  authority  to  the  anonymous  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews,  which  represents  Apostolic  teaching  at  second  hand,2 
and  then  to  interpret  it  in  a  sense  hostile  to  the  Epistle  of 
Clement,  which  represents  exactly  the  same  stream  of  Apostolic 
teaching  only  one  short  stage  lower  down  !  For  Clement  inter¬ 
prets  the  high  priesthood  of  Christ  in  a  sense  which,  instead  of 
excluding,  makes  it  the  basis  of,  the  ministerial  hierarchy  of  the 


1  See  especially  Gal.  i.  8,  9. 


2  Heb.  ii.  3, 


284  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

Church.  Or  to  put  the  matter  more  broadly,  how  irrational  it  is, 
considering  the  intimate  links  by  which  the  New  Testament  canon 
is  bound  up  with  the  historic  Church,  not  to  accept  the  mind 
of  the  Church,  especially  when  we  have  its  consent  down 
independent  lines  of  tradition,  as  interpreting  the  mind  of  the 
Apostolic  writers.  Most  rational  surely  is  the  attitude  of  the  early 
Church  towards  Scripture.  The  Scripture  was  regarded  as  the 
highest  utterance  of  the  Spirit,  the  unique  and  constant  test  of 
the  Church’s  life  and  teaching.  But  the  Spirit  in  the  Church 
interpreted  the  meaning  of  Scripture.  Thus  the  Church  taught 
and  the  Scripture  tested  and  verified  or  corrected  her  teaching : 
and  this  because  all  was  of  one  piece,  the  life  of  the  Church 
including  the  Scriptures,  the  inspired  writers  themselves  appealing 
to  the  Spirit  in  the  Churches.1 

And  now,  what  is  to  be  said  about  this,  at  present,  much  con¬ 
troverted  subject  of  the  inspiration  of  Holy  Scripture?  'What 
does  the  doctrine  imply,  and  what  attitude  does  belief  in  it  involve 
towards  the  modern  critical  treatment  of  the  inspired  literature  ? 

1.  Let  us  bear  carefully  in  mind  the  place  which  the  doctrine 
holds  in  the  building  up  of  a  Christian  faith.  It  is  in  fact  an 
important  part  of  the  superstructure,  but  it  is  not  among  the  bases 
of  the  Christian  belief.  The  Christian  creed  asserts  the  reality  of 
certain  historical  facts.  To  these  facts,  in  the  Church’s  name,  we 
claim  assent :  but  we  do  so  on  grounds  which,  so  far,  are  quite 
independent  of  the  inspiration  of  the  evangelic  records.  All  that 
we  claim  to  show  at  this  stage  is  that  they  are  historical :  not 
historical  so  as  to  be  absolutely  without  error,  but  historical  in  the 
general  sense,  so  as  to  be  trustworthy.  All  that  is  necessary  for 
faith  in  Christ  is  to  be  found  in  the  moral  dispositions  which  pre¬ 
dispose  to  belief,  and  make  intelligible  and  credible  the  thing  to 
be  believed  :  coupled  with  such  acceptance  of  the  generally  his¬ 
torical  character  of  the  Gospels,  and  of  the  trustworthiness  of  the 
other  Apostolic  documents,  as  justifies  belief  that  our  Lord  was 
actually  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  manifested  as  the  Son  of  God 
‘  with  power  according  to  a  spirit  of  holiness,’  crucified,  raised 
again  the  third  day  from  the  dead,  exalted  to  the  right  hand  of 
the  Father,  the  Founder  of  the  Church  and  the  Source  to  it  of  the 
informing  Spirit. 

In  all  this  no  claim  is  made  for  any  special  belief  as  to  the 
method  of  the  Spirit’s  work  in  the  Scripture  or  in  the  Church. 

1  See  further  on  the  fatal  results  of  separating  the  Spirit’s  work  in  Scrip¬ 
ture  from  His  work  in  the  Church,  Coleridge,  Remains,  iii.  93,  iv.  118;  or 
quoted  by  Hare,  Mission  of  the  Comforter,  Note  H,  ii.  468,  474. 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration .  285 

Logically  such  belief  follows,  does  not  precede,  belief  in  Christ. 
Indeed,  in  the  past,  Christian  apologists  have  made  a  great  mistake 
in  allowing  opponents  to  advance  as  objections  against  the  his¬ 
torical  character  of  the  Gospel  narrative  what  are  really  objections 
not  against  its  historical  character,  —  not  such  as  could  tell  against 
the  substantially  historical  character  of  secular  documents,  —  but 
against  a  certain  view  of  the  meaning  of  inspiration.  Let  it  be 
laid  down,  then,  that  Christianity  brings  with  it  indeed  a  doctrine 
of  the  inspiration  of  Holy  Scriptures,  but  is  not  based  upon  it.1 

2.  But  such  a  doctrine  it  does  bring  with  it.  Our  Lord  and 
His  Apostles  are  clearly  /ound  to  believe  and  to  teach  that  the 
Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament  were  given  by  inspiration  of  God ; 
and  the  Christian  Church  from  the  earliest  days  postulated  the 
same  belief  about  the  Scriptures^  of  the  New  Testament.  To  dis¬ 
believe  that  ‘  the  Scriptures  were  spoken  by  the  Holy  Ghost,’  was 
equivalent  to  being  ‘  an  unbeliever.’ 2 

Thus  when  once  a  man  finds  himself  a  believer  in  Christ,  he 
will  find  himself  in  a  position  where  alike  the  authority  of  his  Mas¬ 
ter  and  the  ‘  communis  sensus  ’  of  the  society  he  belongs  to  give 
into  his  hand  certain  documents  and  declare  them  inspired. 

3.  What  in  its  general  idea  does  this  mean? 

St.  Athanasius  expresses  the  function  of  the  Jews  in  the  world  in 
a  luminous  phrase,  when  he  describes  them  as  having  been  the 
‘  sacred  school  for  all  the  world  of  the  knowledge  of  God  and  of 
the  spiritual  life.’ 3  Every  race  has  its  special  vocation,  and  we 
recognize  in  the  great  writers  of  each  race  the  interpreters  of  that 
vocation.  They  are  specially  gifted  individuals,  but  not  merely 
individuals.  The  race  speaks  in  them.  Rome  is  interpreted  by 
Virgil,  and  Greece  by  Hilschylus  or  Plato.  Now,  every  believer 
in  God  must  see  in  these  special  missions  of  races  a  Divine  inspi¬ 
ration.  If  we  can  once  get  down  to  the  bottom  of  human  life,  — 
below  its  pride,  its  wilfulness,  its  pretentiousness,  down  to  its 
essence,  —  we  get  to  God  and  to  a  movement  of  His  Spirit.4 
Thus  every  race  has  its  inspiration  and  its  prophets. 

But  the  inspiration  of  the  Jews  was  supernatural.  What  does 
this  mean?  That  the  Jews  were  selected,  —  not  to  be  the  school 
for  humanity  in  any  of  the  arts  and  sciences  which  involve  the 
thought  of  God  only  indirectly,  and  can  therefore  be  carried  on 

1  This  distinction  was  drawn  by  Bishop  Clifford,  Fortnightly  Review, 
January,  1887,  p.  145. 

2  Cf.  the  quotation  in  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  v.  28. 

3  Athan.,  de  Incarn.,  12.  Cf.  Ewald’s  preface  to  his  History  of  Israel. 

4  See  Gratry,  Henri  Perreyve,  pp.  162,  163. 


286 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

without  a  fundamental  restoration  of  man  into  that  relation  to  God 
which  sin  had  clouded  or  broken,  —  but  to  be  the  school  of  that 
fundamental  restoration  itself.  Therefore,  in  the  case  of  the  Jews 
the  inspiration  is  both  in  itself  more  direct  and  more  intense,  and 
also  involves  a  direct  consciousness  on  the  part  of  its  subjects.  In 
the  race,  indeed,  the  consciousness  might  be  dim ;  but  the  con¬ 
sciousness,  as  the  prophets  all  assure  us,  did  belong  to  the  race, 
and  not  merely  to  its  individual  interpreters.  They  speak  as 
recalling  the  people  to  something  which  they  know,  or  ought  to 
know,  not  as  preachers  of  a  new  religion.  They  were  1  the  con¬ 
science  of  the  state.’  1  But  special  njen  —  prophets,  psalmists, 
moralists,  historians  —  were  thus  the  inspired  interpreters  of  the 
Divine  message  to  and  in  the  race  ;  and  their  inspiration  lies  in 
this  :  that  they  were  the  subjects  of  a  movement  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  so  shaping,  controlling,  quickening  their  minds  and  thoughts 
and  aspirations,  as  to  make  them  the  instruments  through  which 
was  imparted  ‘  the  knowledge  of  God  and  of  the  spiritual  life.’ 

Various  are  the  degrees  of  this  inspiration ;  the  inspiration  of 
the  prophet  is  direct,  continuous,  absorbing.  The  inspiration 
of  the  writer  of  Ecclesiastes,  on  the  other  hand,  is  such  as  to  lead 
him  to  ponder  on  all  the  phases  of  a  worldly  experience,  passing 
through  many  a  false  conclusion  and  cynical  denial,  till  at  the  last 
his  thought  is  led  to  unite  itself  to  the  great  stream  of  Divine 
movement  by  finding  the  only  possible  solution  of  the  problems  of 
life  in  the  recognition  of  God  and  in  obedience  to  Him. 

Various  also  are  the  sorts  of  literature  inspired  ;  for  the  super¬ 
natural  fertilizes  and  does  not  annihilate  the  natural.  The  Church 
repudiated  the  Montanist  conception  of  inspiration,  according  to 
which  the  inspired  man  speaks  in  ecstasy,  as  the  passive,  uncon¬ 
scious  instrument  of  the  Spirit ;  and  the  metaphors  which  would 
describe  the  Holy  Spirit  as  acting  upon  a  man  ‘  like  a  flute-player 
breathing  into  his  flute,*  or  ‘  a  plectrum  striking  a  lyre,’  have 
always  a  suspicion  of  heresy  attaching  to  their  use.2  As  the 
humanity  of  Christ  is  none  the  less  a  true  humanity  for  being  con¬ 
ditioned  by  absolute  oneness  with  God,  so  the  human  activity  is 
none  the  less  free,  conscious,  rational,  because  the  Spirit  inspires 
it.  The  poet  is  a  poet,  the  philosopher  a  philosopher,  the  his¬ 
torian  an  historian,  each  with  his  own  idiosyncrasies,  ways,  and 
methods,  to  be  interpreted  each  by  the  laws  of  his  own  literature. 

1  Delitzsch,  O.  T.  History  of  Redemption,  p.  106.  Cf.  Professor  Robertson 
Smith,  Prophets  of  Israel,  p.  108. 

2  See  Epiphan.,  Haer  ,  xlviii.  4  ;  Westcott,  Introd.  to  the  Study  of  the 
Gospels,  App.  B,  sect.  ii.  4,  sect.  iv.  4 ;  Mason,  Faith  of  the  Gospel,  p.  255. 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration.  287 

And  just  as  truly  as  physiology,  in  telling  us  more  and  more  about 
the  human  body  is  telling  us  about  the  body  which  the  Son  of  God 
assumed,  so  with  the  growth  of  our  knowledge  about  the  kinds  and 
sequences  of  human  literature  shall  we  know  more  and  more  about 
the  literature  of  the  Jews  which  the  Holy  Spirit  inspired. 

What,  then,  is  meant  by  the  inspiration  of  Holy  Scripture?  If 
we  begin  our  inquiry  with  the  account  of  creation  with  which  the 
Bible  opens,  we  may  take  note  of  its  affinities  in  general  substance 
with  the  Babylonian  and  Phoenician  cosmogonies  ;  but  we  are  much 
more  struck  with  its  differences,  and  it  is  in  these  we  shall  look  for 
its  inspiration.  We  observe  that  it  has  for  its  motive  and  impulse 
not  the  satisfaction  of  a  fantastic  curiosity  or  the  later  interest  of 
scientific  discovery,  but  to  reveal  certain  fundamental  religious 
principles  ;  that  everything  as  we  see  it  was  made  by  God  ;  that  it 
has  no  being  in  itself  but  at  God’s  will.  On  the  other  hand,  that 
everything  is  in  its  essence  good,  as  the  product  of  the  good  God ; 
that  man,  besides  sharing  the  physical  nature  of  all  creation,  has  a 
special  relation  to  God,  as  made  in  God’s  image,  to  be  God’s  vice¬ 
gerent  ;  that  sin,  and  all  that  sin  brings  with  it  of  misery  and  death, 
came  not  of  man’s  nature,  but  of  his  disobedience  to  God  and 
rejection  of  the  limitations  under  which  He  put  him ;  that  in  spite 
of  all  that  sin  brought  about,  God  has  not  left  man  to  himself,  that 
there  is  a  hope  and  a  promise.  These  are  the  fundamental  prin¬ 
ciples  of  true  religion  and  progressive  morality,  and  in  these  lies 
the  supernatural  inspiration  of  the  Bible  account  of  creation.1 

As  we  pass  on  down  the  record  of  Genesis,  we  do  not  find  our¬ 
selves  in  any  doubt  as  to  the  primary  and  certain  meaning  of  its 
inspiration.  The  first  traditions  of  the  race  are  all  given  there  from 
a  special  point  of  view .  In  that  point  of  view  lies  the  inspiration. 
It  is  that  everything  is  presented  to  us  as  illustrating  God’s  deal¬ 
ings  with  man,  —  God’s  judgment  on  sin  ;  His  call  of  a  single  man 
to  work  out  a  universal  mission  ;  His  gradual  delimitation  of  a 
chosen  race  ;  His  care  for  the  race  ;  His  overruling  of  evil  to  work 
out  His  purpose.  The  narrative  of  Genesis  has  all  the  fullest 
wealth  of  human  interest,  but  it  is  in  the  unveiling  of  the  hand  of 
God  that  its  special  characteristic  lies.  As  we  go  on  into  the  his¬ 
tory  we  find  the  recorders  acting  like  the  recorders  of  other 
nations,  — collecting,  sorting,  adapting,  combining  their  materials  ; 
but  in  this  inspired  :  that  the  animating  motive  of  their  work  is 
not  to  bring  out  the  national  glory  or  to  flatter  the  national  vanity, 
nor,  like  the  motive  of  a  modern  historian,  —  the  mere  interest  in 

1  See  Professor  Driver’s  admirable  article  on  4  the  cosmogony  of  Genesis.’ 
Expositor,  January,  1886. 


288 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


fact,  —  but  to  keep  before  the  chosen  people  the  record  of  how 
God  has  dealt  with  them.  This,  as  we  perceive,  gives  them  a  spe¬ 
cial  sense  of  the  value  of  fact.1  They  record  what  God  has  done, 
how  God  did  in  such  and  such  ways  take  action  on  behalf  of  His 
peculiar  people  ;  delivering  them,  punishing  them,  teaching  them, 
keeping  them,  disciplining  them  for  higher  ends.  And  none  who 
have  eyes  to  see  God’s  spiritual  purposes  can  doubt  that  those  his¬ 
torians  read  aright  the  chronicles  of  the  kings  of  Israel.  The 
spiritual  significance  which  they  see  is  the  true  significance. 
God’s  special  purpose  was  on  Israel. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  emphasize  in  what  consists  the  special 
"inspiration  of  psalmists  or  of  prophets.  The  psalmists  take  some 
of  the  highest  places  among  the  poets  of  all  nations,  but  the  poetic 
faculty  is  directed  to  one  great  end,  —  to  reveal  the  soul  in  its  rela¬ 
tion  to  God,  in  its  exultations  and  in  its  self-abasements.  ‘  Where 
...  did  they  come  from,  those  piercing,  lightning-like  gleams  of 
strange  spiritual  truth,  those  magnificent  outlooks  upon  the  king¬ 
dom  of  God,  those  raptures  at  His  presence  and  His  glory,  those 
wonderful  disclosures  of  self-knowledge,  those  pure  outpourings 
of  the  love  of  God  ?  Surely  here  is  something  more  than  the  mere 
working  of  the  mind  of  man.  Surely  .  .  .  they  repeat  the  whis¬ 
pers  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  they  reflect  the  very  light  of  the  Eternal 
Wisdom.’ 2 

In  the  case  of  prophets  once  more  we  get  the  most  obvious 

and  typical  instances  of  inspiration.3  The  prophets  make  a  direct 

claim  to  be  the  instruments  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  Not  that  the 

Divine  Spirit  supersedes  their  human  faculties,  but  He  intensifies 

them.  They  see  deeper  under  the  surface  of  life  what  God  is 

doing,  and  therefore  further  into  the  future  what  He  will  do.  No 

\ 

/ 

1  Professor  Cheyne.  speaking  of  such  narratives  of  Scriptures  as  the 
record  of  Elijah,  protests  against  the  supposition  that  they  are  ‘true  to  fact.' 
‘  True  to  fact !  Who  goes  to  the  artist  for  hard  dry  facts  ?  Why  even  the 
historians  of  antiquity  thought  it  no  part  of  their  duty  to  give  the  mere  prose 
of  life.  How  much  less  can  the  unconscious  artists  of  the  imaginative  East 
have  described  their  heroes  with  relentless  photographic  accuracy  !  ’  (The 
Hallowing  of  Criticism,  p.  5-)  But  it  seems  to  me  that  such  a  passage,  by 
treating  the  recorders  of  the  Old  Testament  as  ‘  artists,’  ignores  their  obvious 
intention  to  lay  stress  on  what  God  has  actually  done,  the  deliverances  He 
has  actually  wrought.  Thev,  at  least,  like  the  Greek  historical  ‘  artist  of 
the  defeat  of  Persia,  would  have  laid  great  stress  on  the  facts  having 
happened. 

a  Church,  Discipline  of  the  Christian  Character,  p.  57.  This  work  seems 
to  me  the  best  existing  answer  to  the  question,  in  what  does  the  inspiration 
of  the  Old  Testament  consist. 

^  cf.  pp.  134-139- 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration . 


289 


doubt  their  predictive  knowledge  is  general,  it  is  of  the  issue  to 
which  things  tend.  It  is  not  at  least  usually  a  knowledge  ‘  of 
times  and  of  seasons  which  the  Father  hath  put  in  His  own  power.’ 
Thus  at  times  they  foreshorten  the  distance,  and  place  the  great 
deliverance  and  the  *  day  of  Jehovah  ’  in  the  too  immediate  fore¬ 
ground.1  The  prophetic  inspiration  is  thus  consistent  with  erro¬ 
neous  anticipations  as  to  the  circumstances  and  the  opportunity  of 
God’s  self-revelation,  just  as  the  Apostolic  inspiration  admitted  of 
St.  Paul  expecting  the  second  coming  of  Christ  within  his  own  life¬ 
time.  But  the  prophets  claim  to  be  directly  and  really  inspired  to 
teach  and  interpret  what  God  is  doing  and  commanding  in  their 
own  age,  and  to  forecast  what  in  judgment  and  redemptive  mercy 
God  means  to  do  and  must  do  in  the  Divine  event.  The  figure 
of  the  king  Messiah  dawns  upon  their  horizon  with  increasing 
definiteness  of  outline  and  characteristic,  and  we,  with  the  expe¬ 
rience  of  history  between  us  and  them,  are  sure  that  the  corre¬ 
spondence  of  prophecy  and  fulfilment  can  be  due  to  no  other 
cause  than  that  they  spoke  in  fact  the  ‘  word  of  the  Lord.’ 

Thus  there  is  built  up  for  us  in  the  literature  of  a  nation,  marked 
by  an  unparalleled  unity  of  purpose  and  character,  a  spiritual 
fabric,  which  in  its  result  we  cannot  but  recognize  as  the  action 
of  the  Divine  Spirit.  A  knowledge  of  God  and  of  the  spiritual  life 
gradually  appears,  not  as  the  product  of  human  ingenuity,  but  as 
the  result  of  Divine  communication  :  and  the  outcome  of  this 
communication  is  to  produce  an  organic  whole  which  postulates 
a  climax  not  yet  reached,  a  redemption  not  yet  given,  a  hope  not 
yet  satisfied.  In  this  general  sense  at  least  no  Christian  ought  to  _ 
feel  a  difficulty  in  believing,  and  believing  with  joy,  in  the  inspira¬ 
tion  of  the  Old  Testament :  nor  can  he  feel  that  he  is  left  without 
a  standard  by  which  to  judge  what  it  means.  Christ,  the  goal  of 
Old  Testament  development,  stands  forth  as  the  test  and  measure 
of  its  inspiration. 

The  New  Testament  consists  of  writings  of  Apostles  or  of  men 
of  sub-apostolic  rank,  like  St.  Luke  and  probably  the  author  of  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  There  is  not,  except  perhaps  in  the  case 
of  the  Apocalypse,  any  sign  of  an  inspiration  to  write,  other  than 
the  inspiration  which  gave  power  to  teach.  What  then  is,  whether 
for  writing  or  for  teaching,  the  inspiration  of  an  Apostle? 

If  Jesus  Christ  both  was,  and  knew  Himself  to  be,  the  Revealer 

1  See,  for  instance,  Micah  v.  2-6.  For  an  anticipation  not  historically 
fulfilled  in  details,  see  Isaiah  x.  28-32  ;  cf.  Driver’s  Isaiah,  p.  73.  See  also 
the  prophecies  of  the  destruction  of  Tyre  by  Babylon,  Jer.  xxvii.  3-6;  Ezek. 
xxvi.  4-17  ;  and  contrast  Ezek.  xxix.  17-21. 

r9 


290  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

of  the  Father,  it  almost  stands  to  reason  that  He  must  have  secured 
that  His  revelation  should  be,  without  material  alloy,  communica¬ 
ted  to  the  Church  which  was  to  enshrine  and  perpetuate  it.  Thus, 
in  fact,  we  find  that  He  spent  His  chief  pains  on  the  training  of 
His  Apostolic  witnesses.  And  all  the  training  which  He  gave 
them  while  He  was  present  among  them  was  only  to  prepare  them 
to  receive  the  Holy  Ghost  Who,  after  He  was  gone,  was  to  be 
poured  out  upon  them  to  qualify  them  to  bear  His  witness  among 
men. 

‘  Ye  shall  receive  power,  when  the  Holy  Ghost  is  come  upon 
you,  and  ye  shall  be  My  witnesses.’  ‘  These  things  have  I  spoken 
unto  you  while  yet  abiding  with  you.  And  the  Comforter,  even 
the  Holy  Ghost,  Whom  the  Father  will  send  in  My  name,  He 
shall  teach  you  all  things,  and  bring  to  your  remembrance  all  that 
I  said  unto  you.’  ‘  I  have  yet  many  things  to  say  unto  you,  but 
ye  cannot  bear  them  now.  Howbeit  when  He,  the  Spirit  of  truth, 
is  come,  He  will  guide  you  into  all  the  truth.’ 1 

Thus  the  Church  sees  in  the  Apostles  men  specially  and  delib¬ 
erately  qualified  to  interpret  Christ  to  the  world.  It  understands 
by  their  inspiration  an  endowment  which  enables  men  of  all  ages 
to  take  their  teaching  as  representing,  and  not  misrepresenting, 
His  teaching  and  Himself.  In  St.  John’s  Gospel,  for  example, 
we  have  an  account  of  our  Lord  which  has  obviously  passed 
through  the  medium  of  a  most  remarkable  personality.  We  have 
the  outcome  of  the  meditation,  as  well  as  the  recollection,  of  the 
Apostle.  But,  as  the  evidence  assures  us  that  the  Gospel  is  really 
St.  John’s,  so  the  Church  unhesitatingly  accepts  St.  John’s  strong 
and  repeated  asseveration  that  he  is  interpreting  and  not  distorting 
the  record,  the  personality,  the  claims  of  Jesus  Christ.  ‘  He  bears 
record,  and  his  record  is  true.’ 2 

This  assurance  is  indeed  not  without  verification  :  it  is  verified 
by  the  unity  of  testimony  which,  under  all  differences  of  character 
and  circumstance,  we  find  among  the  Apostolic  witnesses.  The 
accepted  doctrine  of  the  Church  when  St.  Paul  wrote  his 
‘  undoubted  Epistles  ’  —  the  points  of  agreement  amidst  all  differ¬ 
ences  between  him  and  the  Judaizers  —  gives  us  substantially  the 
same  conception  of  the  Person  of  the  Incarnate  Son  of  God  as 
we  find  in  St.  John.3  The  same  conception  of  what  He  was,  is 
required  to  interpret  the  record  of  what  He  did  and  said  in  the 

1  Acts  i.  8.  St.  John  xiv.  25,  26 ;  xvi.  12,  13. 

2  St.  John  xix.  35  ;  xxi.  24  1  St.  John  i.  1-3. 

3  See  Professor  Sanday’s  What  the  First  Christians  thought  about  Christ. 
(Oxford  f louse  Papers  :  Rivington.) 


vii r.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration. 


291 


Synoptic  Gospels.  Further,  the  witness  of  the  Apostles,  though  it 
receives  its  final  guarantee  through  the  belief  in  their  inspiration, 
has  its  natural  basis  in  the  prolonged  training  by  which  —  ‘  com¬ 
pany  ing  with  them  all  the  time  that  He  went  in  and  out  among 
them,  beginning  from  the  baptism  of  John,  until  the  day  that  He 
was  received  up,’  —  they  were  prepared  to  be  His  witnesses. 
Thus  if  an  act  of  faith  is  asked  of  us  in  the  Apostolic  inspiration, 
it  is  a  reasonable  act  of  faith. 

If  we  pass  from  the  writings  properly  Apostolic  to  those  like  St. 
Luke’s  records,  which  represent  Apostolic  teaching  at  second  hand, 
we  do  not  find  that  the  inspiration  of  their  writers  was  of  such  sort 
as  enabled  them  to  dispense  with  the  ordinary  means  or  guarantees 
of  accuracy. .  The  simple  claim  of  St.  Luke’s  preface  to  have  had 
the  best  means  of  information  and  to  have  taken  the  greatest  care 
in  the  use  of  them,  is  on  this  score  most  instructive.  We  should 
suppose  that  their  inspiration  was  part  of  the  whole  spiritual 
endowment  of  their  life  which  made  them  the  trusted  friends  of 
the  Apostles,  and  qualified  them  to  be  the  chosen  instruments  to 
record  their  teaching,  in  the  midst  of  a  Church  whose  quick  and 
eager  memory  of  ‘  the  tradition  ’  would  have  acted  as  a  check  to 
prevent  any  material  error  creeping  into  the  record. 

4.  It  will  be  remembered  that  when  inspiration  is  spoken  of 
by  St.  Paul,  he  mentions  it  as  a  positive  endowment  which  quali¬ 
fies  the  writings  of  those  who  were  its  subjects,  to  be  permanent 
sources  of  spiritual  instruction.  ‘  Every  Scripture  inspired  of  God 
is  also  profitable  for  teaching,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  for  in¬ 
struction  which  is  in  righteousness.’ 1  Following  out  this  idea  of 
Holy  Scripture,  then,  we  are  led  to  think  of  the  belief  in  inspiration 
as  having  this  primary  practical  result :  that  we  submit  ourselves  to 
the  teaching  of  every  book  which  is  given  to  us  as  inspired.  We 
are  to  put  ourselves  to  school  with  each  in  turn  of  the  inspired 
writers ;  with  St.  James,  for  example,  in  the  New  Testament,  as 
well  as  with  St.  John  and  St.  Paul ;  with  St.  Luke  as  well  as  with 
St.  Matthew  ;  with  the  Pastoral  Epistles  as  well  as  with  the  Epistle 
to  the  Galatians.2 *  At  starting,  each  of  us,  according  to  his  predis¬ 
position,  is  conscious  of  liking  some  books  of  Scripture  better  than 
others.  This,  however,  should  lead  us  to  recognize  that  in  some 
wvay  we  specially  need  the  teaching  wrhich  is  less  attractive  to  ns. 
We  should  set  ourselves  to  study  w7hat  wre  like  less,  till  that  too  has 
had  its  proper  effect  in  moulding  our  conscience  and  character. 

1  2  Tim.  iii.  16. 

2  Mr.  Horton’s  book  on  Inspiration  and  the  Bible  is  almost  naively  lack¬ 

ing  in  this  quality  of  impartial  regard  to  inspired  books. 


2 Q2  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

It  is  hardly  possible  to  estimate  how  much  division  would  have 
been  avoided  in  the  Church  if  those,  for  example,  who  were  most 
ecclesiastically  disposed  had  been  at  pains  to  assimilate  the  teach¬ 
ing  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  and  those  who  most  valued  ‘  the 
freedom  of  the  Gospel,’  had  recognized  a  special  obligation  to 
deepen  their  hold  on  the  Epistles  to  the  Corinthians  and  the 
Pastoral  Epistles  and  the  Epistle  of  St.  James. 

To  believe  in  the  inspiration  of  Holy  Scripture  is  to  put  our¬ 
selves  to  school  with  every  part  of  the  Old  Testament,  as  of  the 
New.  True,  the  Old  Testament  is  imperfect,  but  for  that  very 
reason  has  a  special  value.  ‘  The  real  use  of  the  earlier  record  is 
mot  to  add  something  to  the  things  revealed  in  Christ,  but  to  give 
us  that  clear  and  all-sided  insight  into  the  meaning  and  practical 
worth  of  the  perfect  scheme  of  Divine  grace  which  can  only  be 
attained  by  tracing  its  growth.’ 1  We  see  in  the  Old  Testament  the 
elements,  each  in  separation,  which  went  to  make  up  the  perfect 
whole,  and  which  must  still  lie  at  the  basis  of  all  rightly  formed  life 
'v  of  individuals  and  societies. 

Thus  to  believe,  for  instance,  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Old  Tes¬ 
tament  forces  us  to  recognize  a  real  element  of  the  Divine  educa¬ 
tion  in  the  imprecatory  Psalms.  They  are  not  the  utterances  of 
selfish  spite  : 2  they  are  the  claim  which  righteous  Israel  makes 
upon  God  that  He  should  vindicate  Himself,  and  let  their  eyes  see 
how  ‘righteousness  turns  again  unto  judgment.’  The  claim  is 
made  in  a  form  which  belongs  to  an  early  stage  of  spiritual  educa¬ 
tion  ;  to  a  time  when  this  life  was  regarded  as  the  scene  in  which 
God  must  finally  vindicate  Himself,  and  when  the  large  powers  and 
possibilities  of  the  Divine  compassion  were  very  imperfectly  recog¬ 
nized.  But  behind  these  limitations,  which  characterize  the  greater 
part  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  claim  of  these  Psalms  still  remains 
a  necessary  part  of  the  claim  of  the  Christian  soul.  We  must  not 
only  recognize  the  reality  of  Divine  judgments  in  time  and  eter¬ 
nity,  bodily  and  spiritual ;  we  must  not  only  acquiesce  in  them 
because  they  are  God’s ;  we  must  go  on  to  claim  of  God  the 
manifestation  of  His  just  judgment,  so  that  holiness  and  joy,  sin 
and  failure,  shall  be  seen  to  coincide. 

To  recognize  then  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible  is  to  put  ourselves 
to  school  in  every  part  of  it,  and  everywhere  to  bear  in  mind  the 
admonition  of  the  De  Imitatione  ‘  that  every  Scripture  must  be 

1  Professor  Robertson  Smith,  Prophets  of  Israel,  p.  6. 

2  Cf.  Professor  Robertson  Smith,  The  Old  Testament  in  the  Jewish  Church, 
Lect.  vii.  p.  207  :  ‘Another  point  in  which  criticism  removes  a  serious  diffi¬ 
culty  is  the  interpretation  of  the  imprecatory  psalms.’ 


293 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration . 

r 

read  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  it  was  written.’  So  far  it  will  not 
be  a  point  in  dispute  among  Christians  what  inspiration  means,  or 
what  its  purpose  is.  ‘  The  Councils  of  Trent  and  the  Vatican,’ 
writes  Cardinal  Newman,  ‘  tell  us  distinctly  the  object  and.  the 
promise  of  Scriptural  inspiration.  They  specify  “  faith  and  moral 
conduct  ”  as  the  drift  of  that  teaching  which  has  the  guarantee  of 
inspiration.’ 1  Nor  can  it  be  denied  that  the  more  Holy  Scripture 
is  read  from  this  point  of  view,  the  more  confidently  it  is  treated 
as  the  inspired  guide  of  faith  and  conduct,  no  less  in  the  types 
of  character  which  it  sets  before  us  than  in  its  direct  instruction, 
the  more  the  experience  and  appreciation  of  its  inspiration  grows 
upon  us,  so  that  to  deny  or  to  doubt  it  comes  to  mean  to  deny 
or  to  doubt  a  matter  plain  to  the  senses.  Indeed  what  has  been 
said  under  this  head  will  probably  appear  to  those  practised  in  the 
spiritual  use  of  Holy  Scripture  as  an  under-statement,  perhaps 
not  easy  to  justify,  of  the  sense  in  which  the  Scripture  is  the  word 
of  God  and  the  spiritual  food  of  the  soul.2 

5.  But  here  certain  important  questions  arise,  (a)  The  revel¬ 
ation  of  God  was  made  in  a  historical  process.  Its  record  is  in 
large  part  the  record  of  a  national  life  :  it  is  historical.  Now  the 
inspiration  of  the  recorder  lies,  as  we  have  seen,  primarily  in  this, 
that  he  sees  the  hand  of  God  in  the  history  and  interprets  His 
purpose.  Further,  we  must  add,  his  sense  of  the  working  of  God 
in  history  increases  his  realization  of  the  importance  of  historical 
fact.  Thus  there  is  a  profound  air  of  historical  truthfulness  per¬ 
vading  the  Old  Testament  record  from  Abraham  downward.  The 
weaknesses,  the  sins,  of  Israel’s  heroes  are  not  spared.  Their  sin 
and  its  punishment  are  always  before  us.  There  is  no  flattering  of 
national  pride,  no  giving  the  reins  to  boastfulness.  In  all  this  the 
Old  Testament  appears  to  be  in  marked  contrast,  as  to  contempo¬ 
rary  Assyrian  monuments,  so  also  to  a  good  deal  of  much  later 
ecclesiastical  history.  But  does  the  inspiration  of  the  recorder 
guarantee  the  exact  historical  truth  of  what  he  records  ?  And  in 
matter  of  fact  can  the  record,  with  due  regard  to  legitimate  histo¬ 
rical  criticism,  be  pronounced  true  ?  Now,  to  the  latter  of  these 
two  questions  (and  they  are  quite  distinct  questions)  we  may  reply 
that  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  our  believing,  as  our  faith  certainly 

1  See  Nineteenth  Century,  February,  1884,  p.  189. 

2  *  When  from  time  to  time,’  says  St.  Bernard  to  his  monks,  ‘  anything  that 
was  hidden  or  obscure  in  the  Scriptures  has  come  out  into  the  light  to  any 
one  of  you,  at  once  the  voice  of  exultation  and  thankfulness  for  the  nourish¬ 
ment  of  spiritual  food  that  has  been  received  must  rise  as  from  a  banquet 
to  delight  the  ears  of  God.’ 


294 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


strongly  disposes  us  to  believe,  that  the  record  from  Abraham 
downward  is  in  substance  in  the  strict  sense  historical.  Of  course 
the  battle  of  historical  truth  cannot  be  fought  on  the  field  of  the 
Old  Testament  as  it  can  on  that  of  the  New,  because  it  is  so 
vast  and  indecisive,  and  because  (however  certainly  ancient  is 
such  a  narrative  as  that  contained  in  Genesis  xiv.)  very  little 
of  the  early  record  can  be  securely  traced  to  a  period  near  the 
events.  Thus  the  Church  cannot  insist  upon  the  historical  charac¬ 
ter  of  the  earliest  records  of  the  ancient  Church  in  detail,  as  she 
can  on  the  historical  character  of  the  Gospels  or  the  Acts  of  the 
Apostles.  On  the  other  hand,  as  it  seems  the  more  probable 
opinion  that  the  Hebrews  must  have  been  acquainted  with  the  art 
of  writing  in  some  form  long  before  the  Exodus,  there  is  no  reason 
to  doubt  the  existence  of  some  written  records  among  them  from 
very  early  days.1  Internal  evidence  again  certainly  commends  to 
our  acceptance  the  history  of  the  patriarchs,  of  the  Egyptian  bond¬ 
age,  of  the  great  redemption,  of  the  wanderings,  as  well  as  of  the 
later  period  as  to  which  there  would  be  less  dispute.  In  a  word, 
we  are,  we  believe,  not  wrong  in  anticipating  that  the  Church  will 
continue  to  believe  and  to  teach  that  the  Old  Testament  from  Abra¬ 
ham  downwards  is  really  historical,  and  that  there  will  be  nothing* 
to  make  such  belief  and  teaching  unreasonable  or  wilful.  But  within 
the  limits  of  what  is  substantially  historical,  there  is  still  room  for 
an  admixture  of  what,  though  marked  by  spiritual  purpose,  is  yet 
not  strictly  historical,  —  for  instance,  for  a  feature  which  charac¬ 
terizes  all  early  history,  the  attribution  to  first  founders  of  what  is 
really  the  remoter  result  of  their  institutions.  Now  historical  criti- 
cism  2  assures  us  that  this  process  has  been  largely  at  work  in  the 
Pentateuch.  By  an  analysis,  for  instance,  the  force  of  which  is 
very  great,  it  distinguishes  distinct  stages  in  the  growth  of  the  law  of 
worship  :  at  least  an  early  stage  such  as  is  represented  in  1  the  Book 
of  the  Covenant,’3  a  second  stage  in  the  Book  of  Deuteronomy,  a 
last  stage  in  ‘  the  Priestly  Code.’  What  we  may  suppose  to  have 

1  See  the  Annual  Address  (1889)  delivered  at  the  Victoria  Institute  by 
Professor  Sayce  on  the  cuneiform  tablets  of  Tel  el-amarna,  pp.  4,  14  f. :  ‘  We 
learn  that  in  the  fifteenth  century  before  our  era — a  century  before  the 
Exodus  —  active  literary  intercourse  was  going  on  throughout  the  civilized 
world  of  Western  Asia,  between  Babylonia  and  Egypt  and  the  smaller  States 
of  Palestine.  .  .  .  This  intercourse  was  carried  on  by  means  of  the  Babylonian 
language  and  the  complicated  Babylonian  script.  How  educated  the  old 
world  was,  we  are  but  just  beginning  to  learn.  But  we  have  already  learnt 
enough  to  discover  how  important  a  bearing  it  has  on  the  criticism  of  the 
Old  Testament.’ 

2  See  Driver,  Crit.  Notes  on  Sunday-school  Lessons  (Scribner  :  New  York). 

3  Ex.  xx.  xxii.-xxiii.  xxxiii. 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration .  295 

happened  is  that  Moses  himself  established  a  certain  germ  of  cere¬ 
monial  enactment  in  connection  with  the  ark  and  its  sacred  tent, 
and  with  the  ‘  ten  words  ;  ’  and  that  this  developed  always  as  ‘  the 
law  of  Moses,’  the  whole  result  being  constantly  attributed,  probably 
unconsciously  and  certainly  not  from  any  intention  to  deceive,  to 
the  original  founder.  This  view  would  certainly  imply  that  the 
recorders  of  Israel’s  history  were  subject  to  the  ordinary  laws  in  the 
estimate  of  evidence,  that  their  inspiration  did  not  consist  in  a 
miraculous  communication  to  them  of  facts  as  they  originally  hap¬ 
pened  ;  but  if  we  believe  that  the  law,  as  it  grew,  really  did  repre¬ 
sent  the  Divine  intention  for  the  Jews,  gradually  worked  out  upon  the 
basis  of  a  Mosaic  institution,  there  is  nothing  materially  untruthful, 
though  there  is  something  uncritical,  in  attributing  the  whole  legisla¬ 
tion  to  Moses  acting:  under  the  Divine  command.  It  would  be  only 
of  a  piece  with  the  attribution  of  the  collection  of  Psalms  to  David 
and  of  Proverbs  to  Solomon.  Nor  does  the  supposition  that  the  law 
was  of  gradual  growth  interfere  in  any  way  with  the  symbolical  and 
typical  value  of  its  various  ordinances. 

Once  again,  the  same  school  of  criticism  would  assure  us  that  the 
Books  of  Chronicles  represent  a  later  and  less  historical  version  of 
Israel’s  history  than  that  given  in  Samuel  and  Kings  : 1  they  repre¬ 
sent,  according  to  this  view,  the  version  of  that  history  which  had 
become  current  in  the  priestly  schools.  What  we  are  asked  to 
admit  is  not  conscious  perversion,  but  unconscious  idealizing  of 
history,  the  reading  back  into  past  records  of  a  ritual  development 
which  was  really  later.  Now  inspiration  excludes  conscious  decep¬ 
tion  or  pious  fraud,  but  it  appears  to  be  quite  consistent  with  this 
sort  of  idealizing,  —  always  supposing  that  the  result  read  back  into 
the  earlier  history  does  represent  the  real  purpose  of  God,  and  only 
anticipates  its  realization. 

Here  then  is  one  great  question.  Inspiration  certainly  means  the 
illumination  of  the  judgment  of  the  recorder.  ‘  By  the  contact  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,’  says  Origen,  ‘  they  became  clearer  in  their  mental 
perceptions,  and  their  souls  were  filled  with  a  brighter  light.’ 2  But 
have  we  any  reason  to  believe  that  it  means,  over  and  above  this, 
the  miraculous  communication  of  facts  not  otherwise  to  be  known, 
a  miraculous  communication  such  as  would  make  the  recorder 
independent  of  the  ordinary  processes  of  historical  tradition?  Cer¬ 
tainly  neither  St.  Luke’s  preface  to  his  Gospel,  nor  the  evidence  of 
any  inspired  record,  justifies  us  in  this  assumption.  Nor  would  it 

1  The  Books  of  Kings  seem  to  be  compiled  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
Deuteronomist. 

2  Origen,  c.  Cels.,  vii  4. 


296 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


appear  that  spiritual  illumination,  even  in  the  highest  degree,  has 
any  tendency  to  lift  men  out  of  the  natural  conditions  of  knowledge 
which  belong  to  their  time.  Certainly  in  the  similar  case  of  exe¬ 
gesis,  it  would  appear  that  St.  Paul  is  left  to  the  method  of  his  time, 
though  he  uses  it  with  inspired  insight  into  the  function  and  mean¬ 
ing  of  law  and  of  prophecy  as  a  whole.  Thus,  without  pronouncing 
an  opinion,  where  we  have  no  right  to  do  so,  on  the  critical  ques¬ 
tions  at  present  under  discussion,  we  may  maintain  with  consider¬ 
able  assurance  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  doctrine  of  inspiration  to 
prevent  our  recognizing  a  considerable  idealizing  element  in  the  Old 
Testament  history.  The  reason  is  of  course  obvious  enough  why 
what  can  be  admitted  in  the  Old  Testament,  could  not,  without 
results  disastrous  to  the  Christian  Creed,  be  admitted  in  the  New. 
It  is  because  the  Old  Testament  is  the  record  of  how  God  produced 
a  need,  or  anticipation,  or  ideal,  while  the  New  Testament  records 
how  in  fact  He  satisfied  it.  The  absolute  coincidence  of  idea  and 
fact  is  vital  in  the  realization,  not  in  the  preparation  for  it.  It  is 
equally  obvious,  too,  that  where  fact  is  of  supreme  importance,  as  in 
the  New  Testament,  the  evidence  has  none  of  the  ambiguity  or  re¬ 
moteness  which  belongs  to  much  of  the  record  of  the  preparation. 

(b)  But  once  again  ;  we  find  all  sorts  of  literature  in  the  inspired 
volume  :  men  can  be  inspired  to  think  and  to  write  for  God  under 
all  the  forms  of  natural  genius.  Now  one  form  of  genius  is  the 
dramatic  :  its  essence  is  to  make  characters,  real  or  imaginary,  the 
vehicles  for  an  ideal  presentation.  It  presents  embodied  ideas. 
Now  the  Song  of  Solomon  is  of  the  nature  of  a  drama.  The  book 
of  Job,  although  it  works  on  an  historical  basis,  is,  it  can  hardly  be 
denied,  mainly  dramatic.  The  Book  of  Wisdom,  which  with  us  is 
among  the  books  of  the  Bible,  though  in  the  second  rank,  outside 
the  canon,  and  which  is  inside  the  canon  of  the  Roman  Church, 
professes  to  be  written  by  Solomon,1  but  is  certainly  written  not  by 
him,  but  in  his  person  by  another  author.  We  may  then  conceive 
the  same  to  be  true  of  Ecclesiastes  and  of  Deuteronomy ;  i.  e.,  we 
may  suppose  Deuteronomy  to  be  a  republication  of  the  law  ‘  in 
the  spirit  and  power  ’  of  Moses  put  dramatically  into  his  mouth. 
Criticism  goes  further,  and  asks  us  to  regard  Jonah  and  Daniel, 

1  E.  g.,  chs.  vii.,  ix.  The  Roman  Church  admits  that  it  is,  to  use  Newman’s 
phrase,  ‘a  prosopopoeia;’  ‘our  Bibles  say,  “it  is  written  in  the  person  of 
Solomon,”  and  “it  is  uncertain  who  was  the  writer,”  ’  1.  c.,  p.  197.  It  is 
important  to  bear  in  mind  that  the  Western  Church  in  general  has,  since 
St.  Agustine’s  day,  admitted  into  the  canon  a  book  the  literary  method  of 
which  is  thus  confessedly  dramatic.  Newman  makes  this  the  ground  for 
saying  that  the  same  may  be  true  of  Ecclesiastes. 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration .  297 

among  the  prophetic  hooks,  as  dramatic  compositions  worked  up 
on  a  basis  of  history.  The  discussion  of  these  books  has  often  been 
approached  from  a  point  of  view  from  which  the  miraculous  is 
necessarily  unhistorical.  With  such  a  point  of  view  we  are  not  con¬ 
cerned.  The  possibility  and  reality  of  miracles  has  to  be  vindicated 
first  of  all  in  the  field  of  the  New  Testament ;  and  one  who  admits 
them  there,  cannot  reasonably  exclude  their  possibility  in  the  earlier 
history.  The  question  must  be  treated  simply  on  literary  and  evi¬ 
dential  grounds.1  But  we  would  contend  that  if  criticism  should 
show  these  books  to  be  probably  dramatic,  that  would  be  no  hin¬ 
drance  to  their  performing  ‘  an  important  canonical  function/  or  to 
their  being  inspired.  Dramatic  composition  has  played  an  immense 
part  in  training  the  human  mind.  It  is  as  far  removed  as  possible 
from  a  violation  of  truth,  though  in  an  uncritical  age  its  results  may 
very  soon  pass  for  history.  It  admits  of  being  inspired  as  much  as 
poetry  or  history,  and  indeed  there  are  few  who  could  feel  a  diffi¬ 
culty  in  recognizing  as  inspired  the  teaching  of  the  books  of  Jonah 
and  Daniel/  It  is  maintained  then  that  the  Church  leaves  open 
to  literary  criticism  the  question  whether  several  of  the  writings 
of  the  Old  Testament  are  or  are  not  dramatic.  Certainly  the  fact 
that  they  have  not  commonly  been  taken  to  be  so  in  the  past  will 
be  no  evidence  to  the  contrary,  unless  it  can  be  denied  that  a  liter¬ 
ary  criticism  is  being  developed,  which  is  as  really  new  an  intel¬ 
lectual  product  as  the  scientific  development,  and  as  such,  certain 
to  reverse  a  good  many  of  the  liteiary  judgments  of  previous  ages. 
We  are  being  asked  to  make  considerable  changes  in  our  literary 
conception  of  the  Scriptures,  but  not  greater  changes  than  were 
involved  in  the  acceptance  of  the  heliocentric  astronomy. 

(e)  Once  again  :  an  enlarged  study  of  comparative  history  has 
led  to  our  perceiving  that  the  various  sorts  of  mental  or  literary 
activity  develop  in  their  different  lines  out  of  an  earlier  condition 
in  which  they  lie  fused  and  undifferentiated.  T  his  we  can  vaguely 
call  the  mythical  stage  of  mental  evolution.  A  myth  is  not  a  false¬ 
hood  ;  it  is  a  product  of  mental  activity,  as  instructive  and  rich  as 
any  later  product,  but  its  characteristic  is  that  it  is  not  yet  distin¬ 
guished  into  history,  and  poetry,  and  philosophy.  It  is  all  of  these 

1  On  the  evidence  of  O.  T.  miracles  I  may  refer  to  Mr.  Samuel  Cox’s 
Essay:  Miracles,  an  Argument  and  a  Challenge.  (Kegan  Paul,  1884.) 

‘2  Of  course  the  distinction  must  be  maintained  in  the  case  of  the  book  of } 
Daniel  between  a  ‘  pious  fraud/  which  cannot  be  inspired,  and  an  idealizing 
personification,  which,  as  a  normal  type  of  literature,  can.  Further  study  will 
probably  solve  the  special  difficulty  which  on  the  critical  hypothesis  attaches 
to  the  book  of  Daniel  from  this  point  of  view;  see  Stanton,  Jewish  and 
Christian  Messiah,  p,  109,  note  1. 


298 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


in  the  germ,  as  dream  and  imagination,  and  thought  and  experience, 
are  fused  in  the  mental  furniture  of  a  child’s  mind.  ‘These  myths, 
or  current  stories,’  says  Grote,  writing  of  Greek  history,  *  the  spon¬ 
taneous  and  earliest  growth  of  the  Greek  mind,  constituted  at  the 
same  time  the  entire  intellectual  stock  of  the  age  to  which  they  be¬ 
longed.  They  are  the  common  root  of  all  those  different  rami¬ 
fications  into  which  the  mental  activity  of  the  Greeks  subsequently 
diverged ;  containing,  as  it  were,  the  preface  and  germ  of  the 
positive  history  and  philosophy,  the  dogmatic  theology  and  the  pro¬ 
fessed  romance,  which  we  shall  hereafter  trace,  each  in  its  separate 
development/  Now  has  the  Jewish  history  such  earlier  stage? 
Does  it  pass  back  out  of  history  into  myth  ?  In  particular,  are 
not  its  earlier  narratives,  before  the  call  of  Abraham,  of  the  nature 
of  myth,  in  which  we  cannot  distinguish  the  historical  germ,  though 
we  do  not  at  all  deny  that  it  exists  ?  The  inspiration  of  these  nar¬ 
ratives  is  as  conspicuous  as  that  of  any  part  of  scripture  ;  but  is 
there  anything  to  prevent  our  regarding  these  great  inspirations 
about  the  origin  of  all  things,  —  the  nature  of  sin,  the  judgment  of 
God  on  sin,  and  the  alienation  among  men  which  follows  their 
alienation  from  God,  —  as  conveyed  to  us  in  that  form  of  myth  or 
allegorical  picture,  which  is  the  earliest  mode  in  which  the  mind  of 
man  apprehended  truth  ? 

6.  The  present  writer,  believing  that  the  modern  development 
of  historical  criticism  is  reaching  results  as  sure,  where  it  is  fairly 
used,  as  scientific  inquiry,  and  feeling,  therefore,  that  the  warning 
which  the  name  of  Galileo  must  ever  bring  before  the  memory  of 
Churchmen,  is  not  unneeded  now,  believes  also  that  the  Church  is 
in  no  way  restrained  from  admitting  the  modifications  just  hinted 
at,  in  what  has  latterly  been  the  current  idea  of  inspiration. 

The  Church  is  not  restrained,  in  the  first  place,  by  having  com¬ 
mitted  herself  to  any  dogmatic  definitions  of  the  meaning  of  inspir¬ 
ation.1  It  is  remarkable  indeed  that  Origen’s  almost  reckless 
mysticism,  and  his  accompanying  repudiation  of  the  historical  charac¬ 
ter  of  large  parts  of  the  narrative  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  of  some 
parts  of  the  New,2  though  it  did  not  gain  acceptance,  and  indeed 

1  This  is  certainly  true  of  the  Church  as  a  whole.  For  the  most  that  can 
be  said  in  the  same  sense  of  the  Roman  Church,  see  Newman  in  the  article 
above  cited. 

2  De  Principiis,  iv.  15,  16,  17.  His  point  is  that  incidents  which  could  not 
have  occurred  in  fact,  or  at  least  did  not  occur,  are  inserted  in  the  narrative  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  that  their  very  historical  impossibility  or  im¬ 
probability  may  drive  us  to  the  consideration  of  their  spiritual  significance. 

‘  The  attentive  reader  may  notice  .  .  .  innumerable  other  passages,  like 
these,  so  that  he  will  be  convinced  that  in  the  histories  that  are  literally 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration .  299 

had  no  right  to  it  (for  it  had  no  sound  basis),  on  the  other  hand 
never  roused  the  Church  to  contrary  definitions.  Nor  is  it  only 
Origen  who  disputed  the  historical  character  of  parts  of  the  narra¬ 
tive  of  Holy  Scripture.  Clement  before  him  in  Alexandria,  and 
the  mediaeval  Anselm  in  the  West,  treat  the  seven  days’  creation 
as  allegory  and  not  history.  Athanasius  speaks  of  paradise  as  a 
‘  figure.’  A  mediaeval  Greek  writer,  who  had  more  of  Irenaeus 
than  remains  to  us,  declared  that  ‘  he  did  not  know  how  those  who 
kept  to  the  letter  and  took  the  account  of  the  temptation  histori¬ 
cally  rather  than  allegorically,  could  meet  the  arguments  of  Irenaeus 
against  them.’  Further  than  this,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  mys¬ 
tical  method,  as  a  whole,  tended  to  the  depreciation  of  the  his¬ 
torical  sense,  in  comparison  with  the  spiritual  teaching  which  it 
conveyed.1  In  a  different  line,  Chrysostom,  of  the  literal  school  of 
interpreters,  explains  quite  in  the  tone  of  a  modern  apologist,  how 
the  discrepancies  in  detail  between  the  different  Gospels  assure  us 
of  the  independence  of  the  witnesses,  and  do  not  touch  the  facts 
of  importance  in  which  all  agree. 

The  Church  is  not  tied  then  by  any  existing  definitions.  We 
cannot  make  any  exact  claim  upon  any  one’s  belief  in  regard  to 
inspiration,  simply  because  we  have  no  authoritative  definition  to 
bring  to  bear  upon  him.  Those  of  us  who  believe  most  in  the 
inspiration  of  the  Church  will  see  a  Divine  Providence  in  this 
absence  of  dogma,  because  we  shall  perceive  that  only  now  is  the 
state  of  knowledge  such  as  admits  of  the  question  being  legitimately 
raised. 

Nor  does  it  seem  that  the  use  which  our  Lord  made  of  the  Old 
Testament  is  an  argument  against  the  proposed  concessions.  Our 
Lord,  in  His  use  of  the  Old  Testament,  does  indeed  indorse  with 
the  utmost  emphasis  the  Jewish  view  of  their  own  history.  He 
does  thus  imply,  on  the  one  hand,  the  real  inspiration  of  their 
canon  in  its  completeness,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that  He  Him¬ 
self  was  the  goal  of  that  inspired  leading  and  the  standard  of  that 
inspiration.  ‘  Your  father  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see  My  day  ;  ’  ‘  I 
am  not  come  to  destroy,  but  to  fufil.’  This,  and  it  is  the  important 
matter  for  all  that  concerns  our  spiritual  education,  is  not  in  dis¬ 
pute.  What  is  questioned  is  that  our  Lord’s  words  foreclose  cer¬ 
tain  critical  positions  as  to  the  character  of  Old  Testament  litera¬ 
ture.  For  example,  does  His  use  of  Jonah's  resurrection,  as  a  type 
of  His  own,  depend  in  any  real  degree  upon  whether  it  is  historical 

recorded,  circumstances  are  inserted  that  did  not  occur.’  Cf.  Bigg,  Christian 
Platonists,  pp.  137-178. 

Cf.  Jerome,  ad  Nepotian.,  ep.  Hi.  2. 


300  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

fact  or  allegory?1  It  is  of  the  essence  of  a  type  to  suggest  an  idea, 
as  of  the  antitype  to  realize  it.  The  narrative  of  Jonah  suggested' 
certainly  the  idea  of  resurrection  after  three  days,  of  triumph 
over  death,  and  by  suggesting  this  gave  our  Lord  what  His  dis¬ 
course  required.  Once  more,  our  Lord  uses  the  time  before 
the  flood 2  to  illustrate  the  carelessness  of  men  before  His 
own  coming.  He  is  using  the  flood  here  as  a  typical  judgment, 
as  elsewhere  He  uses  other  contemporary  visitations  for  a  like  pur¬ 
pose.  In  referring  to  the  flood  He  certainly  suggests  that  He  is 
treating  it  as  typical,  for  He  introduces  circumstances  —  ‘eating 
and  drinking,  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage  1  —  which  have  no 
counterpart  in  the  original  narrative.  Nothing  in  his  use  of  it 
depends  on  its  being  more  than  a  typical  instance.  Once  more, 
He  argues  with  the  Pharisees  on  the  assumption  of  the  Davidic 
authorship  of  Psalm  cx.3  But  it  must  be  noticed  that  He  is  asking 
a  question  rather  than  making  a  statement,  —  a  question,  moreover, 
which  does  not  admit  of  being  turned  into  a  statement  without  sug¬ 
gesting  the  conclusion,  of  which  rationalistic  critics  have  not  hesi¬ 
tated  to  avail  themselves,  that  David’s  Lord  could  not  be  David’s 
son.  There  are,  we  notice,  other  occasions  when  our  Lord  asked 
questions  which  cannot  be  made  the  basis  of  positive  propositions.4 
It  was  in  fact  part  of  His  method  to  lead  men  to  examine  their 
own  principles,  without  at  the  time  suggesting  any  positive  conclu¬ 
sion  at  all.  It  may  also  fairly  be  represented,  on  a  review  of  our 
Lord’s  teaching  as  a  whole,  that  if  He  had  intended  to  convey 
instruction  to  us  on  critical  and  literary  questions,  He  would  have 
made  His  purpose  plainer.  It  is  contrary  to  His  whole  method  to 
reveal  His  Godhead  by  any  anticipations  of  natural  knowledge. 
The  Incarnation  was  a  self-emptying  of  God  to  reveal  Himself 
under  conditions  of  human  nature  and  from  the  human  point  of 
view.  We  are  able  to  draw  a  distinction  between  what  He  revealed 
and  what  He  used.  He  revealed  God,  His  mind,  His  character, 
His  claim,  within  certain  limits  His  Threefold  Being  ;  He  revealed 
man,  his  sinfulness,  his  need,  his  capacity ;  He  revealed  His  pur¬ 
pose  of  redemption,  and  founded  His  Church  as  a  home  in  which 
man  was  to  be  through  all  the  ages  reconciled  to  God  in  knowl¬ 
edge  and  love.  All  this  He  revealed,  but  through,  and  under  con- 

1  St.  Matt.  xii.  40.  2  St.  Matt.  xxiv.  37-39.  3  St.  Matt.  xxii.  41-46. 

4  See  especially  St.  Mark  x.  17-18  (and  parallel  passages),  where  our 
Lord’s  question,  if  converted  into  a  positive  proposition,  suggests  a  repudi¬ 
ation  of  personal  goodness.  Cf.  also  the  question  in  St.  John  x.  34-36, 
where,  though  the  argument  is  a  fortiori ,  still  the  true  character  of  our  Lord’s 
sonship  is  hardly  suggested. 


viii.  The  Holy  Spirit  and  Inspiration.  301 

ditions  of,  a  true  human  nature.  Thus  He  used  human  nature,  its 
relation  to  God,  its  conditions  of  experience,  its  growth  in  knowl¬ 
edge,  its  limitation  of  knowledge.1  He  feels  as  we  men  ought  to 
feel ;  He  sees  as  we  ought  to  see.  We  can  thus  distinguish  more 
or  less  between  the  Divine  truth  which  He  reveals,  and  the  human 
nature  which  He  uses.  Now  when  He  speaks  of  the  ‘sun  rising’* 
He  is  using  ordinary  human  knowledge.  He  willed  so  to  re¬ 
strain  the  beams  of  Deity  as  to  observe  the  limits  of  the  science 
of  His  age,  and  He  puts  Himself  in  the  same  relation  to  its  histori¬ 
cal  knowledge.  Thus  He  does  not  reveal  His  eternity  by  state¬ 
ments  as  to  what  had  happened  in  the  past,  or  was  to  happen 
in  the  future,  outside  the  ken  of  existing  history.2  He  made  His 
Godhead  gradually  manifest  by  His  attitude  towards  men  and 
things  about  Him,  by  His  moral  and  spiritual  claims,  by  His 
expressed  relation  to  His  Father,  not  by  any  miraculous  exemp¬ 
tions  of  Himself  from  the  conditions  of  natural  knowledge  in  its 
own  proper  province.  Thus  the  utterances  ot  Christ  about  the  Old 
Testament  do  not  seem  to  be  nearly  definite  or  clear  enough  to 
allow  of  our  supposing  that  in  this  case  He  is  departing  trom  the 
general  method  of  the  Incarnation,  by  bringing  to  bear  the  unveiled 
omniscience  of  the  Godhead,  to  anticipate  or  foreclose  a  develop¬ 
ment  of  natural  knowledge. 

But  if  we  thus  plead  that  theology  may  leave  the  field  open  for 
free  discussion  of  these  questions  which  Biblical  criticism  has  re¬ 
cently  been  raising,  we  shall  probably  be  bidden  to  ‘  remember 
Tubingen/  and  not  be  over-trustful  of  a  criticism  which  at  least 
exhibits  in  some  of  its  most  prominent  representatives  a  great  deal 
of  arbitrariness,  of  love  of  ‘  new  views  ’  for  their  own  sake,  and  a 
great  lack  of  that  reverence  and  spiritual  insight  which  is  at  least  as 
much  needed  for  understanding  the  books  of  the  Bible,  as  accurate 
knowledge  and  fair  investigation.  To  this  the  present  writer  would 

1  This  limitation  of  knowledge  must  not  be  confused  with  fallibility  or  lia¬ 
bility  to  human  delusion,  because  it  was  doubtless  guarded  by  the  Divine 
purpose  which  led  Jesus  Christ  to  take  it  upon  Himself. 

2  Of  course  He  gave  prophetic  indications  of  the  coming  judgment,  but  on 
the  analogy  of  inspired  prophecy.  He  did  not  reveal  ‘  times  and  seasons,’  and 
declared  that  it  was  not  within  the  scope  of  His  mission  to  do  so.  See  esp. 
St.  Mark  xiii.  32.  He  exhibits  supernatural  insight  into  men’s  characters 
and  lives  ;  but  He  never  exhibits  the  omniscience  of  bare  Godhead  in  the 
realm  of  natural  knowledge,  such  as  would  be  required  to  anticipate  the  re¬ 
sults  of  modern  science  or  criticism.  This  ‘  self-emptying  ’  of  God  in  the 
Incarnation  is,  we  must  always  remember,  no  failure  of  power,  but  a  contin¬ 
uous  act  of  Self-sacrifice  ;  cf.  2  Cor.  viii.  9  and  Phil.  ii.  7.  Indeed  God 
‘declares  His  almighty  power  most  chiefly  ’  in  this  condescension,  whereby 
He  ‘beggared  Himself’  of  Divine  prerogatives,  to  put  Himself  in  our  place. 


302 


The  Religion  of  the  Licarnation. 


be  disposed  to  reply  that,  if  the  Christian  Church  has  been  enabled 
to  defeat  the  critical  attack,  so  far  as  it  threatened  destruction  to 
the  historical  basis  of  the  New  Testament,  it  has  not  been  by  fore¬ 
closing  the  question  with  an  appeal  to  dogma,  but  by  facing  in 
fair  and  frank  discussion  the  problems  raised.  A  similar  treatment 
of  Old  Testament  problems  will  enable  us  to  distinguish  between 
what  is  reasonable  and  reverent,  and  what  is  high-handed  and  irre¬ 
ligious  in  contemporary  criticism,  whether  German,  French,  or 
English.  Even  in  regard  to  what  makes  prima  facie  a  reasonable 
claim,  we  do  not  prejudice  the  decision  by  declaring  the  field  open  ; 
in  all  probability  there  will  always  remain  more  than  one  school  of 
legitimate  opinion  on  the  subject ;  indeed,  the  purpose  of  the  latter 
part  of  this  essay  has  not  been  to  inquire  how  much  we  can  without 
irrationality  believe  inspiration  to  involve  ;  but  rather,  how  much 
may  legitimately  and  without  real  loss  be  conceded.  For,  without 
doubt,  if  consistently  with  entire  loyalty  to  our  Lord  and  His 
Church,  we  can  regard  as  open  the  questions  specified  above,  we 
are  removing  great  obstacles  from  the  path  to  belief  of  many  who 
certainly  wish  to  believe,  and  do  not  exhibit  any  undue  scepticism. 
Nor  does  there  appear  to  be  any  real  danger  that  the  criticism  of 
the  Old  Testament  will  ultimately  diminish  our  reverence  for  it.  In 
the  case  of  the  New  Testament  certainly  we  are  justified  in  feeling 
that  modern  investigation  has  resulted  in  immensely  augmenting 
our  understanding  of  the  different  books,  and  has  distinctly  fortified 
and  enriched  our  sense  of  their  inspiration.  Why  then  should 
we  hesitate  to  believe  that  the  similar  investigation  of  the  Old  Tes¬ 
tament  will  in  its  result  similarly  enrich  our  sense  that ‘God  in 
divers  portions  and  divers  manners  spake  of  old  times  unto  the 
fathers/  and  that  the  Inspiration  of  Holy  Scriptures  will  always  be 
recognized  as  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  modes  in  which  the 
Holy  Spirit  has  mercifully  wrought  for  the  illumination  and  encour¬ 
agement  of  our  race  ? 

1  For  whatsoever  things  were  written  aforetime  were  written  for 
our  learning,  that  we  through  patience  and  comfort  of  the  Scriptures 
might  have  hope.’ 


IX. 

THE  CHURCH. 


WALTER  LOCK. 


■ 


IX. 


THE  CHURCH . 


Christianity  claims  to  be  at  once  a  life,  a  truth,  and  a  worship ; 
and,  on  all  these  accounts,  it  needs  must  find  expression  in  a 
church.  For,  in  the  first  place,  the  life  of  an  individual  remains 
dwarfed  and  stunted  as  long  as  it  is  lived  in  isolation  ;  it  is  in  its 
origin  the  outcome  of  other  lives ;  it  is  at  every  moment  of  its  exis¬ 
tence  dependent  upon  others ;  it  reaches  perfection  only  when  it 
arrives  at  a  conscious  sense  of  its  own  deficiencies  and  limitations, 
and,  therefore,  of  its  dependence,  and  through  such  a  sense  realizes 
with  thankfulness  its  true  relation  to  the  rest  of  life  around  it. 
Again,  the  knowledge  of  truth  comes  to  the  individual  first  through 
the  mediation  of  others,  of  his  parents  and  teachers  ;  as  he  grows, 
and  his  own  intellect  works  more  freely,  yet  its  results  only  gain 
consistency,  security,  width,  when  tested  by  the  results  of  other 
workers  ;  and  directly  we  wish  to  propagate  these  results,  they 
must  be  embodied  in  the  lives  of  others,  in  societies,  in  organiza¬ 
tions.  Without  these,  ideas  remain  in  the  air,  abstract,  intangible, 
appealing  perhaps  to  the  philosophic  few,  but  high  above  the  reach 
of  the  many,  the  simple.  ‘  All  human  society  is  the  receptacle, 
nursery,  and  dwelling-place  of  ideas,  shaped  and  limited  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  societv  —  ideas  which  live  and  act  on  it  and  in 

j 

it ;  which  are  preserved,  passed  on.  and  transmitted  from  one  por¬ 
tion  of  it  to  another,  from  one  generation  to  another  ;  which  would 
be  merely  abstractions  or  individual  opinions  if  they  were  not  en¬ 
dowed  with  the  common  life  which  their  reception  in  a  society 
gives  them.’ 1 

These  two  principles  are,  obviously,  not  confined  to  religious 
questions.  They  apply  to  morality,  to  society,  to  politics.  They 
are  assumed  in  all  ethical  and  political  treatises.  The  need  of  co¬ 
operation  for  common  life  underlies  the  whole  structure  of  the 

1  The  Dean  of  St.  Paul’s  on  The  Christian  Church  (Oxford  House 
Papers,  No.  xvii.),  where  this  truth  is  excellently  worked  cut  and  applied 
to  the  Church, 


20 


306 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


Republic  of  Plato  ;  it  is  implied  in  Aristotle’s  definition  of  man  as 
a  social  animal,  and  in  his  close  association  of  Ethics  with  Politics  : 
it  has  created  the  family,  the  tribe,  the  state  ;  each  fresh  assertion 
of  the  principle,  each  breaking  down  of  the  barriers  which  separate 
family  from  family,  tribe  from  tribe,  nation  from  nation,  has  been  a 
step  forward  in  civilization.  The  strength  of  co-operation  for  the 
propagation  of  ideas  is  seen  in  the  persistence  with  which  certain 
nations  retain  hold  on  political  theories  or  peculiar  features  of 
character ;  it  is  seen  in  the  recurring  formation  of  philosophic 
schools  or  religious  sects  or  guilds,  as  soon  as  any  new  truth,  intel¬ 
lectual  or  religious,  has  been  discovered,  or  any  moral  quality,  such 
as  temperance  or  purity,  has  needed  to  be  emphasized.  The  most 
individualistic  of  Christian  sects  have  found  themselves  forced  to 
be  ecclesiastical,  to  define  their  creeds,  and  to  perfect  their  organi¬ 
zation,  as  soon  as  they  have  begun  to  be  missionary. 

These  principles  are  as  wide  as  society ;  but  religion  takes  them 
up  and  applies  them  on  the  highest  level.  Religion  is,  almost  uni¬ 
versally,  the  link  which  binds  man  to  man,  no  less  than  that  which 
binds  man  to  a  Power  above  him.  So  in  the  Christian  Church  — 
if  we  may  anticipate,  for  a  moment,  our  special  application  of  the 
principle  — the  new-born  child  is  taken  at  once  and  incorporated 
into  a  body  of  believers  ;  from  the  first  it  draws  its  life  from  God 
through  the  body  ;  it  is  taught  that  throughout  life  it  must  keep 
in  touch  with  the  body  ;  it  must  be  in  a  right  relation  to  the  other 
members ;  it  must  draw  life  from  them  ;  it  must  contribute  life  to 
them.  And,  further,  this  body  has  existed  always  and  exists  still  as 
the  home  of  certain  ideas ,  ideas  about  God  and  about  human  life, 
which  were  revealed  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  which  it  has  to  attest  in 
its  teaching  and  embody  in  its  life.  It  is  to  be  a  body  of  visible 
persons,  themselves  the  light  of  the  world,  expressing  so  that  others 
can  see  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God,  winning  others  to  belief  in 
the  unity  of  God,  by  the  sight  of  their  own  oneness.  The  first 
principle  might  be  expressed  in  the  words  of  Festus  to  Paracelsus, 
when  the  latter  had  claimed  to  be  God’s  special  instrument  in  the 
world  :  — 

*  Were  I  elect  like  you, 

I  would  encircle  me  with  love,  and  raise 
A  rampart  of  my  fellows  :  it  should  seem 
Impossible  for  me  to  fail,  so  watched 
Bv  gentle  friends  who  made  their  cause  my  own. 

They  should  ward  off  fate’s  envy : —  the  great  gift, 
Extravagant  when  claimed  by  me  alone, 

Being  so  a  gift  to  them  as  well  as  me  ; !  1 

1  Browning,  Paracelsus,  ti.  p.  30,  ed.  iSSS. 


ix.  The  Church. 


307 


the  second  principle  by  lines  applied  originally  to  the  Incarnation, 
but  which  we  may  legitimately  transfer  to  the  Church,  which  con¬ 
tinues  the  work  of  the  Incarnation,  — 

‘  And  so  the  Word  had  breath,  and  wrought 
With  human  hands  the  Creed  of  Creeds 
In  loveliness  of  perfect  deeds, 

More  strong  than  all  poetic  thought/1 

But,  further,  religion  adds  a  third  application  of  its  own  to  this 
principle  of  co-operation  ;  for  a  church  grows  also  out  of  the  neces¬ 
sities  of  worship.  The  ritual  needed  for  the  offering  of  sacrifice 
almost  necessitates  ot  itselt  a  number  of  persons  for  its  performance. 
No  doubt,  an  individual  can  worship  God  in  private,  but  so  his 
worship  tends  to  be  self-centred  and  narrow  ;  for  the  full  expres¬ 
sion  ot  his  religious  relation  to  others,  for  expiating  a  wrong  done 
by  him  to  his  neighbors  or  to  the  whole  community,  for  expressing 
gratitude  for  mercies  which  have  come  to  him  through  others,  there 
must  be  the  common  meeting  ;  and  the  community  as  a  whole  has 
its  great  victories  for  which  to  thank  God,  its  national  dangers  for 
which  to  pray,  its  national  sins  for  which  to  offer  expiation  ;  and 
hence,  common  religious  acts  have  been  the  universal  accompani¬ 
ment  of  national  life,  and  have  in  their  turn  reacted  upon  it. 

The  idea  of  a  church,  then,  as  conceived  in  its  most  general 
form,  and  without  especial  reference  to  the  Christian  Church,  is 
this,  that  it  widens  life  by  deepening  the  sense  of  brotherhood  ; 
that  it  teaches,  strengthens,  and  propagates  ideas  by  enshrining 
truth  in  living  witnesses,  by  checking  the  results  of  isolated  think¬ 
ers  by  contact  with  other  thinkers,  and  by  securing  permanency  for 
the  ideas  ;  and  that  it  expands  and  deepens  worship  by  eliminating 
all  that  is  selfish  and  narrow,  and  giving  expression  to  common 
aims  and  feelings. 

We  pass  from  such  a  priori  ideas  to  the  evidence  of  the  Bible. 
There  we  find  that  these  principles  were  embodied  first  in  Judaism. 
There  the  whole  nation  was  the  Church.  The  Jew  entered  into 
the  religious  privileges  of  his  life,  not  by  any  conscious  act  of  his 
own,  but  by  being  born  of  Jewish  parents  ;  he  retained  his  true  life 
by  remaining  in  contact  with  his  nation.  The  union  of  the  different 
members  of  the  nation  with  each  other  is  so  intimate  that  the 
whole  nation  is  spoken  of  as  a  personal  unit.  It  is  called  ‘  God’s 
Son,’  His  ‘first-born  Son,’  ‘Jehovah’s  servant.’  The  ideal  of 
prophecy  is  essentially  that  of  a  restored  nation  rejoicing  in  the 
rule  of  national  righteousness.  Again,  the  nation  was  chosen  out 


1  Tennyson,  In  Memoriam,  xxxvi. 


308  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

specially  to  bear  witness  to  truth,  truth  about  the  nature  of  God, 
the  Almighty,  the  Eternal,  the  Holy ;  truth  embodied  in  the  facts 
of  history,  and  deepened  in  the  revelations  of  prophecy ;  truths 
which  the  fathers  teach  their  children,  4  that  they  should  not  hide 
them  from  the  children  of  the  generations  to  come.’ 1  In  the  strik¬ 
ing  phrase  of  St.  Athanasius,  the  law  and  the  prophets  were  ‘  a 
sacred  school  of  the  knowledge  of  God  and  of  spiritual  life  for  the 
whole  world.’2  Their  worship,  too,  was  essentially  social  and 
national.  From  the  first  it  centred  round  great  national  events, 
the  fortunes  of  the  harvest,  or  the  crises  of  national  history ;  the 
individual  was  purified  from  sin  that  he  might  be  worthy  to  take 
part  in  the  national  service  ;  the  events  of  the  nation’s  history  were 
celebrated  in  religious  hymns  ;  the  capital  of  the  nation  became  the 
one  and  only  recognized  centre  for  the  highest  worship. 

But  Judaism  adds  to  these  principles  a  further  principle  of  its 
own.  It  claims  that  such  privileges  as  were  granted  to  it,  were  not 
granted  to  it  for  its  own  sake,  but  that  it  might  be  a  source  of  bles¬ 
sing  to  all  nations  ;  it  assumes  that  they  are  on  a  lower  religious 
level  than  itself;  that  instead  of  each  nation  progressing  equally 
along  the  line  of  religious  life,  truth,  and  worship,  other  nations 
have  fallen  backward,  and  the  Jew  has  been  chosen  out  for  a  spe¬ 
cial  privilege.  It  is  the  principle  that  God  works  by  ‘  limitation,’  by 
apparent  ‘  exclusiveness,’  by  that  which  is  in  its  essence  1  sacerdo¬ 
talism  ;  ’  the  principle  that  God  does  not  give  His  gifts  equally  to 
all,  but  specially  to  a  few,  that  they  may  use  them  for  the  good  of 
the  whole.  This  principle  seems  at  first  sight  to  offend  some  mod¬ 
ern  abstract  ideas  of  justice  and  equality ;  but  the  moment  we 
examine  the  facts  of  life,  we  find  it  prevailing  universally.  Each 
nation  has  its  peculiar  gift ;  the  Greek  makes  his  parallel  claim  to 
be  specially  gifted  with  the  love  of  knowledge  and  the  power  of 
artistic  expression ;  the  Roman  with  the  power  of  rule  and  the 
belief  in  law.  Or,  again,  within  a  single  nation,  it  is  the  artist  who 
enables  us  to  see  the  beauty  of  a  face  or  a  landscape  which  had 
escaped  us  before,  — - 


‘  Art  was  given  for  that, 
God  uses  us  to  help  each  other  so, 
Lending  our  minds  out.’  3 


It  is  the  poet  who  interprets  our  inner  nature  or  the  magic  of  the 
external  world,  and  becomes  — - 


1  Ps.  lxxviii.  3,  4. 


2  De  Inc.,  12. 


3  Browning,  Fra  Lippo  Lippi. 


ix.  The  Church . 


309 


*  A  priest  to  us  all 

Of  the  wonder  and  bloom  of  the  world, 

Which  we  see  with  his  eyes  and  are  glad  ;  ’ 1 

he  sings 

‘  Till  the  world  is  wrought 
To  sympathy  with  hopes  and  fears  it  heeded  not?  2 

And  this  principle  does  not  stop  short  of  religious  influences. 
Conscience  is  itself  a  witness  to  it,  as  it  implies  that  all  parts  of 
our  nature  are  not  sufficient  guides  to  themselves,  but  that  God 
has  gifted  one  special  faculty  with  power  to  control  the  rest.  ‘  Men 
of  character,’  it  has  been  said,  ‘  are  the  conscience  of  the  society 
to  which  they  belong.’  In  the  Jewish  nation  itself,  the  prophets 
were  the  circle  of  Jehovah’s  friends ;  they  knew  His  secrets,  they 
kept  alive  the  ideal  of  the  nation.  4  What  the  soul  is  in  the  body, 
that  are  Christians  in  the  world,’  was  the  parallel  claim  of  an 
early  apologist.3  Analogies  crowd  in,  then,  on  every  side,  to  show 
how  rational  is  this  claim  on  the  part  of  Judaism. 

Revelation  only  accepts  this  fact,  and  adds  to  it  the  assertion 
that  it  is  no  accident,  but  a  part  of  the  Divine  Purpose.  It  is  the 
result  of  God’s  election.  The  Jewish  nation,  and  subsequently  the 
Christian  Church,  is  not  only  a  blessing  to  the  rest  of  the  world, 
but  it  is  conscious  that  it  is  a  blessing.  This  truth  has  been 
revealed  to  it  partly  to  keep  it  ever-mindful  of  its  sense  of  depen¬ 
dence  upon  the  Giver  of  all  good  gifts,  partly  to  give  it  tenacity  and 
courage  to  cling  to  a  gift  which  it  knows  to  be  of  inestimable  value 
for  all  mankind.  4  The  election  was  simply  a  method  of  procedure 
adopted  by  God  in  His  wisdom  by  which  He  designed  to  fit  the 
few  for  blessing  the  many,  one  for  blessing  all.’ 4 

It  must  be  from  considerations  such  as  these  that  wTe  approach 
the  foundation  of  the  Christian  Church  and  the  Incarnation  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  on  which  it  rests.  We  approach  it  with  the 
expectation  that  we  shall  find  these  principles  embodied  in  it,  for 
Christianity  sprang  directly  out  of  Judaism,  and  so  would  naturally 
inherit  its  principles  ;  and  to  go  deeper  still,  the  very  essence  of 
the  Incarnation  lies  in  the  consecration  of  human  life  and  human 
means.  He  who  before  had  been  acting  invisibly  upon  the  world 
as  the  Word,  implanting  life  and  light  in  man,  now  entered  visibly 
into  human  flesh.  All  tendencies  which  made  for  the  fulness  of 

1  M.  Arnold,  The  Youth  of  Nature. 

2  Shelley,  The  Skylark. 

3  Ep.  ad  Diogn  ,  vi. 

4  Bruce,  The  Chief  End  of  Revelation,  p.  116. 


3io 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


life  and  truth  before  His  coming,  all  that  tended  to  enlighten,  ele¬ 
vate,  combine  men,  had  been  His  unknown  working ;  now  they 
are  known  to  be  His.  The  Infinite  appears  in  finite  form  ;  the 
spiritual  takes  the  material  in  which  to  express  itself ;  human  media 
are  consecrated  to  deeper  ends,  and  charged  with  a  fuller  meaning 
than  before  ;  so  that,  in  Hooker’s  words,  4  We  cannot  now  con¬ 
ceive  how  God  should,  without  man,  exercise  Divine  power  or 
receive  the  glory  of  Divine  praise.’ 1  4  What  you  do  now  even  after 

the  flesh,  that  is  spiritual,’  is  the  bold  paradox  of  St.  Ignatius ;  and 
he  adds  the  reason,  4  for  you  do  all  in  Christ  Jesus.’1  2  Thus  — 

‘  In  this  twofold  sphere,  the  twofold  man 
Holds  firmly  to  the  natural,  to  reach 
The  spiritual  beyond  it  .  .  . 

The  whole  temporal  show  related  royally 
And  built  up  to  eterne  significance 
Through  the  open  arms  of  God.’3 

The  Incarnation,  then,  takes  up  all  the  three  principles  of  which 
we  have  spoken ;  but,  from  the  very  finality  which  it  claims  for 
itself,  it  puts  a  mark  of  finality  upon  each  of  them,  and  so,  in  this 
respect,  marks  off  the  application  of  them  in  the  Christian  Church 
from  all  other  applications  of  the  same  principles.  The  principle 
of  co-operation  for  spiritual  life  is  taken  up  ;  the  Jewish  nation  is 
expanded  into  an  universal  brotherhood  ;  this  includes  all  men, 
without  any  distinction  of  race  ;  it  includes  the  quick  and  the 
dead  ;  it  aims  at  the  highest  spiritual  perfection.  It  is  final  in  this 
sense,  that  nothing  can  be  wider  in  extent  or  deeper  in  aim  ;  but 
it  is  final  also  in  the  sense  that  the  life  has  been  manifested. 
Christians  do  not  combine  to  work  up  to  some  unsuspected  ideal ; 
they  combine  to  draw  out  and  express  in  their  common  life  the 
perfection  that  was  in  Christ.  The  principle  of  association  for  the 
propagation  of  ideas  is  taken  up,  but  they  are  truths  about  God 
and  His  relation  to  human  nature ;  they  are  truths  which  have 
been  revealed,  which  have  been  once  for  all  delivered  to  the  saints. 
Finally,  the  principle  of  association  for  worship  is  taken  up ;  the 
worship  is  made  as  wide  as  humanity ;  it  is  to  be  as  spiritual  as 
Cod ;  but  it,  too,  rests  on  final  facts,  on  the  facts  of  creation  and 
redemption ;  it  centres  round  the  one  complete  sacrifice  for  sin. 

1  Eccl.  Pol.,  v.  54.  Cf.  Iren.,  adv.  Haer.,  iii.  20  :  ‘Gloria  enim  hominis 
Deus ;  operationis  vero  Dei  et  onmis  sapientiae  Ejus  et  virtutis  receptaculum 
homo.’ 

2  Ign.,  ad  Eph.,  viii.  &  5e  Kal  Kara  c rdpKa  pda  a  ere,  ravra  rn/ev/iariKd  eanv" 
ev  ’I7 i<xov  yap  Xpicrrcp  tt dvra  irpaacrere- 

3  Aurora  Leigh,  vii.  p.  302. 


ix.  The  Church . 


3i  I 


Let  us  consider  each  of  these  points  more  in  detail. 

I.  The  Church  is  an  organization  for  the  purpose  of  spiritual 
life  ;  an  universal  brotherhood  knit  together  to  build  up  each  ot  its 
members  into  holiness  ;  ‘  the'  only  great  school  oi  virtue  existing.’ 
But  if  this  is  so,  if  it  is  universal,  is  the  principle  ot  k  limitation,’ 
of  4 exclusiveness/  gone?  Certainly  not.  It  is  there,  and  it  is 
most  instructive  to  notice  how  it  arises.  Cniist  chose  a  small 
body  of  disciples  to  be  in  close  contact  with  Himsell,  to  share 
His  work,  and  to  receive  His  deeper  teaching.  This  will  not  sur¬ 
prise  us  after  the  analogies  ot  the  prophets,  the  po^ts,  the  artists 
ot  the  world.  The  saints  too  may  be  few,  and  God  may  lend 
their  spirits  out  for  the  good  ot  others.  But,  moieover,  in  the 
first  formation  of  the  Church  we  are  able  to  watch  the  process  of 
limitation,  as  historically  worked  out ;  and  we  see  that  it  arises  not 
from  any  narrowness,  any  grudging  ot  His  blessings,  on  the  part 
of  Christ,  but  from  the  narrowness,  the  limitations  in  man.  Man 
is  ‘straitened,’  not  in  God,  not  in  Christ,  but  in  his  own  afiections. 
God  willed  all  men  to  be  saved  ;  Christ  went  about  doing  good 
and  calling  all  to  a  change  of  heart,  to  a  share  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven ;  but  such  a  call  made  demands  upon  His  hearers  ;  it 
required  that  they  should  give  up  old  prejudices  about  the  Mes¬ 
sianic  kingdom,  that  they  should  be  willing  to  leave  father  and 
mother  and  houses  and  lands  for  the  truth’s  sake,  that  they  should 
lay  aside  all  the  things  that  defile  a  man,  that  they  should  aim  at 
being  perfect,  that  they  should  not  only  hear  but  understand  the 
word,  that  they  should  trust  Him  even  when  His  sayings  were 
hard.  And  these  demands  produced  the  limitations.  The  Phari¬ 
sees  preferred  the  glory  of  men  to  the  glory  which  came  from 
God  ;  the  masses  in  Galilee  cared  only  for  the  bread  that  perisheth  ; 
many  of  the  disciples  turned  back  ;  and  so  He  could  not  commit 
Himself  unto  them,  because  He  knew  what  was  in  man.  Not  to 
them,  not  to  any  chance  person,  but  to  the  Twelve,  to  those  who 
had  stood  these  tests,  to  those  who  had,  in  spite  of  all  perplexity, 
seen  in  Him  the  Son  of  the  Living  God,  to  them  He  could  com¬ 
mit  Himself,  they  could  share  His  secrets ;  they  could  be  taught 
clearly  the  certainty  and  the  meaning  of  His  coming  death,  for 
they  had  begun  to  learn  what  self-sacrifice  meant ;  they  could  do 
His  work  and  organize  His  Church;  they  could  bind  and  loose 
in  His  Name  ;  they  could  represent  Him  when  He  was  gone. 
These  are  the  elect ;  they  who  had  the  will  to  listen  to  the  call ;1  2 

1  Cp.  H.  S.  Holland,  Creed  and  Character,  Sermons  ITT. -VII T. 

2  Tlavrccv  to'.vvv  avOpcoTTwv  K€K\r]fj.^ya)U,  01  uiraKovaaL  fiouArjdevTes,  KXrjTol 
uvondadricrav,  Clem.  Alex.,  Strom.,  I.  xviii.  89. 


312 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


they  who  were  ‘  magnanimous  to  correspond  with  heaven  :  ’  to  them 
He  gave  at  Pentecost  the  full  conscious  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
so  at  last  formed  them  into  the  Church,  the  Church  which  was  to 
continue  His  work,  which  was  to  convey  His  grace,  which  was  to 
go  into  the  whole  world,  holding  this  life  as  a  treasure  for  the  sake 
of  the  whole  world,  praying  and  giving  thanks  for  all  men,  because 
the  unity  of  God  and  the  unity  of  the  mediation  of  Christ  inspires 
them  with  hope  that  all  may  be  one  in  Him.1 

The  day  of  Pentecost  was  thus  the  birthday  of  the  Church. 
Before  there  were  followers  of  the  Lord ;  now  there  was  the 
Church ;  and  this  as  the  result  of  a  new  act,  for  which  all  that 
preceded  had  been  but  preparation ;  now  the  Church  was  born 
in  becoming  the  possessor  of  a  common  corporate  life.  The 
Spirit  was  given  to  the  whole  body  of  Christians  together ;  it  was 
not  given  to  an  individual  here  and  there  in  such  a  way  that  such 
Spirit-bearing  individuals  could  then  come  together  and  form  a 
Church.  It  was  given  corporately,  so  that  they  who  received  the 
Spirit  realized  at  once  a  unity  which  preceded  any  individual 
action  of  their  own.  So  the  Church  has  gone  forth  offering  its 
message  freely  to  all ;  in  Christ  Jesus  there  is  neither  Jew  nor 
Gentile ;  the  message  is  given  openly,  e  without  any  veil/  to  all ; 
all  are  accepted  who  will  submit  themselves  to  Baptism,  i.  e .,  all  who 
recognize  the  element  of  evil  and  of  weakness  in  their  own  life, 
who  are  willing  to  die  to  it  and  receive  fresh  life  and  strength  from 
the  Risen  Lord,  and  to  submit  their  life  to  His  discipline.  That  is 
the  Church  as  presented  to  us  in  the  New  Testament.  Metaphor 
after  metaphor  is  lavished  upon  it  by  our  Lord  and  by  St.  Paul  in 
order  to  make  clear  the  conception  of  it.  He  is  the  Vine,  His 
disciples  are  the  branches  ;  they  draw  all  their  life  from  Him ; 
apart  from  Him  they  can  do  nothing ;  if  in  union  with  Him,  they 
bear  fruit.  The  Church  is  a  household,  a  scene  of  active  work, 
of  ‘  skilled  and  trained  activity  ;  ’  each  member  with  his  own  work, 
some  as  mere  members  of  the  household,  others  as  rulers  set  over 
the  household  to  give  them  meat  in  due  season,  each  with  talents 
to  be  used  faithfully  for  the  Master.  It  is  a  family,  in  which  ‘all 
ye  are  brethren,’  laying  obligations  of  love  between  brother  and 
brother,  calling  out  self-sacrifice  for  the  good  of  others,  deepening 
in  each  the  sense  of  the  value  of  the  lives  of  others.  It  is  the  Body 
of  Christ,  that  which  grows  stronger  and  stronger,  that  which  draws 
its  life  from  the  Head  and  must  hold  to  Him,  that  in  which  Chris¬ 
tian  is  linked  to  Christian  in  sympathy  and  complete  interdepend¬ 
ence,  that  without  which  the  Head  would  be  incomplete,  the  neces- 

1  Cp.  i  Tim.  ii.  1-6. 


ix.  The  Church. 


313 


sary  organ  for  completing  Christ’s  work  on  earth,  that  which  the 
Spirit  takes  as  its  channel  for  manifesting  to  the  world  the  very 
‘  life  of  God.’  It  is  God’s  Temple ;  visible,  made  up  of  parts, 
which  are  fitted  in  to  one  another  in  symmetry ;  beautiful  with  a 
spiritual  beauty;  for  there  a  living  God  is  present;  there  He 
speaks  to  His  own  ;  there  they  offer  to  Him  a  rational  service.1 
It  is  the  Bride  of  Christ,  the  dearest  object  of  Christ’s  love,  which 
gives  herself  to  Him  for  His  service,  which  for  His  sake  keeps  her¬ 
self  pure  in  life  and  doctrine ;  which  receives  from  Him  all  the 
treasures  of  His  love,  so  that  as  He  had  received  the  fulness  of 
God,  ‘  the  aggregate  of  the  Divine  attributes,  virtues,  and  energies  ’ 
from  the  bather,  the  Church  receives  all  this  from  Him  and 
manifests  it  forth  to  the  world  of  men  and  of  angels. 

But  this  picture,  it  will  be  urged,  is  only  a  prophecy  of  the  future  ; 
the  evidence  of  St.  Paul’s  Lpistles  will  also  show  us  a  very  different 
scene  in  real  life,  a  body  with  tendencies  to  divisions,  to  selfishness, 
to  sin.  This  is  quite  true,  but  the  ideal  is  never  thought  of  as 
something  different  Irom  the  real ;  the  ideal  is  not  simply  in  heaven, 
nor  the  real  simply  on  earth ;  the  real  is  the  ideal,  though  not  yet 
completely  developed  ;  the  ideal  is  the  actual  basis  of  the  real,  as 
much  as  the  goal  to  which  the  real  is  tending.  The  members  of 
the  Church  have  been  consecrated ;  they  are  holy ;  they  are 
‘  unleavened ;  ’  they  have  put  on  Christ ;  they  have  by  their  self¬ 
committal  to  Him  received  a  righteousness  which  they  can  work 
out  into  perfection.  Again,  they  are  brothers  ;  they  have  been 
made  children  of  God  by  adoption ;  as  they  have  realized  the 
sense  of  sonship,  they  realize  also  the  closeness  of  the  tie  between 
themselves  and  the  other  sons,  their  common  sympathies,  hopes, 
and  aims.  True,  they  are  not  yet  perfect  either  in  holiness  or  in 
love  ;  the  very  purpose  of  the  Church  is  to  make  them  perfect. 
It  takes  the  individual  at  his  birth,  it  incorporates  him  into  its  own 
life,  it  watches  over  him  from  beginning  to  end,  it  feeds  him  with 
spiritual  food,  it  disciplines  him  by  spiritual  laws,  it  blesses  him  at 
all  the  chief  moments  of  life,  it  takes  him  away  from  his  own  isola¬ 
tion,  trains  him  in  social  aims  and  social  duties  by  social  sacraments  ; 
finally,  gives  him  back  to  God  with  its  benediction. 

Such  a  conception  of  the  Church  as  a  nursery,  a  school,  a 
home,  implies  of  necessity  that  it  should  be  visible,  and  that  it 
should  be  one.  It  is  a  visible  body,  because  it  has  in  some  sense 
to  represent  the  Incarnate  Lord.  In  the  Incarnation  spirit  took 

1  For  the  whole  of  this  last  paragraph  cf.  H.  S.  Holland,  On  Behalf  of 
Belief,  Sermons  VI.  and  VII. 


314  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

material  form  and  expressed  itself  thereby;  in  the  risen  Lord  — 
and  it  is  the  risen  Lord  who  gives  "the  Spirit  to  the  Church  —  there 
was  still  a  spiritual  body.  This  is  not  to  deny  the  invisible  reality 
of  spiritual  unity  which  underlies  the  external  visible  unity.  It  is 
only  to  say  that  completeness  means  both.  In  the  language  of 
St.  Ignatius,  as  Christ  Jesus  was  at  once  material  and  spiritual,  so 
the  unity  of  the  Church  should  be  at  once  material  and  spiritual.1 

The  idea  of  an  invisible  Church  to  express  the  body  of  true 
believers,  who  alone  are  the  Church,  to  whatever  community  they 
belong,  so  that  the  visible  Church  becomes  an  unimportant  thing, 
is  an  idea  entirely  at  variance  with  Scripture  and  all  pre-reforma¬ 
tion  teaching.  The  phrase  is  first  found  in  almost  contemporary 
writings  of  Luther  and  of  Zwingli ;  it  is  akin  to  the  teaching  of 
Hus  and  of  Wiclif;  and,  no  doubt,  there  are  thoughts  and  phrases 
in  earlier  writers  that  are  more  or  less  akin  to  it.  From  the  first 
there  was  obviously  a  distinction  between  the  true  and  untrue 
Christian,  between  the  spiritual  and  the  fleshly,  between  the  vessels 
to  honor  and  the  vessels  to  dishonor ;  and  the  first  of  these  classes, 
those  who  persevere  to  the  end,  whom  man  cannot  know  and 
God  only  knows,  those  who,  if  thought  of  in  the  light  of  God’s 
eternal  purposes,  are  the  predestined,  these  were  treated  and 
spoken  of  as  ‘  the  Church  properly  so-called,’  ‘  the  true  body  of 
Christ.’  Christians  ‘  who  do  the  will  of  the  Father  will  belong  to 
the  first  Church,  the  spiritual  Church  founded  before  the  sun  and 
moon.’  Those  who  have  lived  in  perfect  righteousness  according 
to  the  Gospel  ‘  will  rest  in  the  holy  hill  of  God,  in  the  highest 
Church,  in  which  are  gathered  the  philosophers  of  God.’ 2 

Again,  the  Church  on  earth  is  regarded  as  ‘  a  copy  of  the 
Church  in  heaven  in  which  God’s  will  is  done  :  ’  but  in  each  case 
there  is  no  contrast  between  the  visible  and  the  invisible  Church. 
The  invisible  Church  is  in  these  cases  either  the  ideal  of  the 
visible ;  or  that  part  of  the  visible  organized  Church  which  has 
remained  true  to  its  aims.  So  too  with  regard  to  those  who  are 
not  conscious  believers ;  the  possibility  of  their  salvation,  in  a 
qualified  way,  is  heartily  recognized,  but  the  confusion  is  not  made 
of  calling  them  members  of  the  Church. 

The  fatal  danger  is  when  the  belief  in  the  invisible  Church  is 

1  St.  Ignatius,  ad  Eph.,  viii.  :  eh  larp6s  ecrn,  aapKiiebs  Kal  Truevp.ariK6s,  as 
compared  with  ad  Magn.,  xiii.  :  'Iva  evcoais  rj  aapKucf]  re  teal  irvevp.ariK't]. 

2  Pseudo-Clem.  Rom.,  Ep.  ii  14;  Clem.  Alex.,  Str.,  vi.  14;  iv.  8.  For 
these  and  other  illustrations  cf.  Seeberg,  Der  Begriff  der  christlichen  Kirche 
(Erlangen,  1885),  cap.  i. ;  and  Gore,  Church  and  the  Ministry,  ed.  i.  pp.  19, 
2S,  136. 


ix.  The  Church. 


315 


sued  to  discredit  the  visible  Church  and  the  importance  of  belong¬ 
ing  to  it.  It  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  all  stress  laid  upon 
the  invisible  Church  tends  to  lower  the  demands  of  holiness  and 
brotherhood.  It  is  a  visible  Church,  and  such  a  Church  as  can 
attract  outsiders,  which  calls  out  the  fruits  of  faith  into  active 
energy ;  it  is  a  visible  Church  such  as  can  combine  Christians  in 
active  work,  which  tests  brotherhood,  which  rubs  away  idiosyn¬ 
crasy,  which  destroys  vanity  and  jealousy,  which  restrains  personal 
ambition,  which  trains  in  the  power  of  common  work,  which,  as 
our  own  powers  fail,  or  are  proved  inadequate,  for  some  task  on 
which  our  heart  had  been  set,  still  fills  us  with  hope  that  God  will 
work  through  others  that  which  it  is  clear  He  will  not  work 
through  us.  It  is  a  visible  Church  alone  which  is  ‘  the  home  of 
the  lonely.’  Encompassed  as  we  are  now  from  our  birth  by 
Christian  friends  and  associations,  we  tend  to  forget  how  much  we 
depend  on  the  spiritual  help  and  sympathy  of  others.  The  great¬ 
ness  of  our  blessings  blinds  us  to  their  presence,  and  we  seem  to 
stand  in  our  own  strength  while  we  are  leaning  upon  others.  The 
relation  of  the  soul  to  God  is  a  tender  thing ;  personal  religion, 
which  seems  so  strong,  while  in  a  Christian  atmosphere,  tends  to 
grow  weak,  to  totter,  to  fall,  as  we  stand  alone  in  some  distant 
country,  amid  low  moral  standards  and  heathen  faiths.  Such 
solitude  does  indeed  often,  in  those  who  are  strong,  deepen,  in  a 
marvellous  way,  the  invisible  communion  with  God  and  the  ties 
that  knit  us  with  the  absent ;  but  the  result  is  often  fatal  to  the 
weak.  It  throws  both  strong  and  weak  alike  into  closer  sympathy 
with  those  who  share  a  common  faith.  It  is  a  visible  Church 
which  supplies  this  sympathy,  which  gives  the  assurance  that  each 
soul,  as  it  is  drawn  to  God,  shall  not  stand  alone  ;  but  that  it  shall 
find  around  it  strengthening  hands  and  sympathetic  hearts,  which 
shall  train  it  till,  as  in  the  quiet  confidence  of  a  home,  it  shall 
blossom  into  the  full  Christian  life. 

The  principle  of  the  unity  of  the  Church  is  very  similar.  That, 
again,  is  primarily  and  essentially  a  spiritual  unity.  The  ultimate 
source  is,  according  to  the  Lord’s  own  teaching,  the  unity  of  the 
Godhead  :  ‘  that  they  may  be  one,  even  as  we  are  one.’  The 
effect  of  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  is  to  make  the  multitude  of 
them  that  believed  ‘of  one  heart  and  one  soul.’  Baptism  becomes 
the  source  of  unity,  ‘  In  one  Spirit  were  we  all  baptized  into  one 
body  :  ’  the  c  one  bread  ’  becomes  the  security  of  union.  ‘  We 
who  are  many  are  one  bread,  one  body,  for  we  all  partake  of  the 
one  bread.’  More  fully  still  is  the  unity  drawn  out  in  the  Epistle 
to  the  Ephesians.  ‘  There  is  one  body  and  one  Spirit,  even  as  ye 


3 16 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


are  called  in  one  hope  of  our  calling,  one  Lord,  one  faith,  one 
baptism,  one  God  and  Father  of  all’  The  unity  starts  with  being 
spiritual ;  it  is  the  power  of  the  One  God  drawing  men  together 
by  His  action  upon  their  spirits,  uniting  them  in  the  sendee  of 
one  Lord  Who  has  redeemed  them ;  but  it  issues  in  ‘  one  body.’ 
Nothing  can  be  stronger  than  the  assertion  of  such  unity.  But  in 
what  does  this  unity  lie,  and  what  is  to  be  the  safeguard  of  it? 
No  one  answer  is  possible  to  this  question.  Clearly,  one  part  of 
the  answer  is,  a  unity  of  spiritual  aim,  ‘  one  hope  of  your  calling  :  ’ 
another  answer  is,  a  common  basis  of  belief,  common  trust  in  the 
same  Lord,  ‘  one  faith  ;  ’  a  further  answer  is,  common  social  sacra¬ 
ments,  ‘  one  baptism,’  ‘  one  bread?  All  these  lie  on  the  face  of 
these  passages  of  St.  Paul.  Are  we  to  add  to  them  ‘  a  common 
government?  ‘  an  apostolical  succession  ’  ?  Was  this  of  the  essence 
or  a  late  addition,  a  result  of  subsequent  confederation  intended 
to  guarantee  the  permanence  of  dogma?  No  doubt,  the  circum¬ 
stances  of  subsequent  history  moulded  the  exact  form  of  the 
ministry,  and  emphasized  the  importance  of  external  organization 
under  particular  circumstances ;  but  this  is  no  less  true  of  the 
other  points  of  unity  ;  the  unity  of  spiritual  life  was  worked  out  in 
one  way  in  the  times  of  public  discipline  and  penance,  in  another 
way  when  these  fell  into  disuse  :  the  unity  of  faith  was  brought 
into  prominence  in  the  times  of  the  formulating  of  the  Creeds. 
So  the  unity  of  external  organization  was  emphasized  when  it  was 
threatened  by  the  Gnostic,  Novatian,  and  Donatist  controversies. 
But  the  germ  of  it  is  there  froiji  the  first,  and  it  was  no  later  addi¬ 
tion.  The  spiritual  unity  derived  from  the  Lord  is  imparted 
through  Sacraments ;  but  this  at  once  links  the  inward  life  and 
spiritual  unity  with  some  form  of  external  organization.  And  so 
the  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  after  his  great  descrip¬ 
tion  of  Christian  unity,  goes  on  at  once  to  speak  of  the  ministry. 
The  apostles,  prophets,  evangelists,  pastors,  teachers,  these  are 
special  gifts  of  the  ascended  Lord  to  the  Church ;  and  they  are 
given  for  the  very  purpose  of  securing  unity,  ‘  for  the  perfecting 
of  the  saints  unto  the  work  of  ministering,  unto  the  building  up  of 
the  body  of  Christ,  till  we  all  attain  unto  the  unity  of  the  faith? 
No  less  significantly,  when  St.  Paul  is  applying  to  the  Church  the 
metaphor  of  the  body  and  its  members  in  order  to  emphasize  the 
unity  of  the  whole,  does  he  rank  apostles,  prophets,  teachers,  as 
the  most  important  members  of  the  body.1 

The  -.history  of  the  early  Church,  so  far  as  it  can  be  traced, 


1  I  Cor.  xii.  28. 


ix.  The  Church . 


317 


points  the  same  way.  The  Lord  appointed  His  body  of  twelve ; 
He  gave  them  the  power  to  bind  and  to  loose,  the  power  to  exer¬ 
cise  discipline  over  offending  members  of  the  Church.  At  first, 
the  Christian  Church  is  a  purely  Jewish  body;  it  continues  in  the 
Apostles’  fellowship  as  well  as  doctrine  ;  they  distribute  its  alms ; 
they  punish  unworthy  members  ;  they  arrange  its  differences  ;  they 
appoint  subordinate  officers ;  they  ratify  their  actions,  and  sanction 
the  admission  of  Samaritans  and  proselytes  to  the  Church  :  but 
the  various  members  throughout  Judaea,  Galilee,  and  Samaria  are 
embraced  in  the  single  conception  of  one  Church.1  Then  under 
the  guidance  of  Paul  and  Barnabas  the  Gentiles  are  brought  in 
and  formed  into  churches ;  the  danger  to  unity  becomes  acute. 
According  to  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  it  is  surmounted  by  refer¬ 
ence  to  the  Church  at  Jerusalem  ;  the  Apostles  and  Elders  there 
decide  the  question,  and  the  Gentile  Churches  are  thus  kept  in 
communion  with  it.  St.  Paul’s  letters,  with  all  the  difficulty  there 
is  of  reconciling  every  detail  with  the  historian’s  account,  present 
us  with  essentially  the  same  picture.  In  dealing  with  his  own 
Churches,  he  claims  absolute  right,  as  apostle,  to  hand  on  and  lay 
down  traditions,  to  punish,  to  forgive,  to  govern ;  he  leaves  some 
class  of  ministers  in  every  Church  under  his  guidance ;  each 
Church  is  to  administer  discipline  over  unworthy  members.  But 
the  Churches  cannot  act  independently  :  the  Church  at  Corinth  is 
not  to  act  as  though  it  were  the  fountain-head  of  Christianity,  or 
the  only  Gentile  Church  ;  it  is  to  remember  the  customs  in  other 
Churches.  Further  than  this,  above  ‘  all  the  Churches,’  appears 
already  as  one  body  ‘  the  Church  ’  in  which  God  has  set  Apostles.2 
Within  it  there  are  separate  spheres  of  work,  —  Paul  and  Barnabas 
are  to  go  to  the  Gentiles,  the  leading  Jewish  apostles  to  the  Jews ; 
St.  Paul  will  not  intrude  beyond  the  province  assigned  to  him  ;  he 
makes  his  Gentile  Churches  to  contribute  to  the  needs  of  the  Jewish 
Church,  and  realize  the  debt  which  they  owe  to  them.  Any  divi¬ 
sions  in  a  local  Church  cannot  be  tolerated,  as  being  inconsistent 
with  the  unity  of  Christ,  with  His  cross,  and  with  the  significance 
of  baptism.  Peter  stands  condemned  when  he  wishes  to  separate 
himself,  and  so  causes  division  between  Jew  and  Gentile. 

The  importance  attached  to  external  organization  is  surely 
implied  in  all  of  this,  and  the  circumstances  of  the  second  century 
forced  out  into  clearness  what  was  so  implied.  Gnosticism, 

1  Cp.  Acts  ix.  31  7]  iKKXrjaia  Kaff  0A77?  rr/s  ’I ovSaias  real  TaAiAa/as  wal 

Sa^apetas. 

1  i  Cor.  xii.  28,  xv.  9 ;  Gal.  i.  13  ;  Phil.  iii.  6 ;  Eph.  i.  22,  iii.  10,  21  ;  Col.  i. 
18,  24 ;  1  Tim.  iii.  15. 


3i8 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


Montanism,  Novatianism,  —  all  tended  to  found  new  bodies,  which 
claimed  to  be  the  true  Church.  How  was  the  individual  Christian 
to  test  their  claims?  It  was  in  the  face  of  this  question  that 
Church  writers  —  notably  St.  Cyprian  and  St.  Irenaeus  —  empha¬ 
sized  the  importance  of  historical  continuity  in  the  Church  as 
secured  by  the  apostolical  succession  of  the  episcopate.  The 
unity  of  the  Church  came  primarily,  they  urged,  from  God,  from 
heaven,  from  the  Father ;  it  was  secured  by  the  foundation  of  the 
Church  upon  the  Apostles ;  the  bishops  have  succeeded  to  the 
Apostles,  and  so  become  the  guardians  of  the  unity  of  the  Church. 
As  soon  then  as  we  find  the  Christian  episcopate  universally  organ¬ 
ized,  we  find  it  treated  as  an  institution  received  from  the  Apostles, 
and  as  carrying  with  it  the  principle  of  historic  continuity.  So  it 
has  remained  ever  since,  side  by  side  with  the  other  safeguards  of 
unity,  —  the  sacraments  and  the  common  faith.  The  Roman 
Church  has  added  to  it  what  seemed  a  further  safeguard  of  unity, 
the  test  of  communion  with  itself ;  but  this  was  a  later  claim,  —  a 
claim  which  was  persistently  resented,  and  which  was  urged  with 
disastrous  results.  The  Reformed  Churches  of  the  Continent,  in 
their  protest  against  that  additional  test,  have  rejected  the  whole 
principle  of  historic  continuity  ;  they  have  remained  satisfied  with 
the  bond  of  a  common  faith  and  of  common  sacraments ;  but  the 
result  can  scarcely  be  said  to  be  as  yet  a  securer  unity.  Even  an 
Unitarian  historian  recognizes  heartily  that  the  characteristic  of  the 
Church  in  England  is  this  continuity.  ‘  There  is  no  point,’  urges 
Mr.  Beard,1  ‘  at  which  it  can  be  said,  Here  the  old  Church  ends, 
here  the  new  begins.  .  .  .  The  retention  of  the  Episcopate  by  the 
English  Reformers  at  once  helped  to  preserve  this  continuity  and 
marked  it  in  the  distinctest  way.  ...  It  is  an  obvious  historical 
fact  that  Parker  was  the  successor  of  Augustine,  just  as  clearly  as 
Lanfranc  and  Becket.’ 

This,  then,  is  what  the  Church  claims  to  be  as  the  home  of 
grace,  the  channel  of  spiritual  life.  It  claims  to  be  a  body  of  liv¬ 
ing  persons  who  have  given  themselves  up  to  the  call  of  Christ  to 
carry  on  His  work  in  the  world  ;  a  body  which  was  organized  by 
Himself  thus  far  that  the  Apostles  were  put  in  sole  authority  over 
it ;  a  body  which  received  the  Spirit  to  dwell  within  it  at  Pente¬ 
cost  ;  a  body  which  propagated  itself  by  spiritual  birth  ;  a  body  in 
which  the  ministerial  power  was  handed  on  by  the  Apostles  to 
their  successors,  which  has  remained  so  organized  till  the  present 
day,  and  has  moved  on  through  the  world,  sometimes  allied  with, 


1  Hibbert  Lectures,  1883,  p.  31 1. 


ix.  The  Church. 


319 


sometimes  in  separation  from,  the  State,  always  independent  of  it  ; 
a  body  which  lays  on  each  of  its  members  the  duty  of  holiness  and 
the  obligation  of  love,  and  trains  them  in  both. 

But  two  objections  arise  here  which  must  be  dealt  with  shortly. 
It  is  urged,  first,  this  is  an  unworthy  limitation  ;  we  ought  to  love 
all  men,  to  treat  all  men  as  brothers ;  why  limit  this  love,  this  feel¬ 
ing  of  brotherhood  to  the  baptized,  to  the  Church?  True,  we 
ought  to  love  and  honor  all  men,  to  do  good  to  all  men.  The 
love  of  the  Christian,  like  the  love  of  Christ,  knows  no  limits ;  but 
the  limitations  are  in  man  himself.  All  human  nature  is  not  lova¬ 
ble  ;  all  men  are  not  love-worthy.  Love  must,  at  least,  mean  a 
different  thing ;  it  must  weaken  its  connotation  if  applied  to  all 
men  ;  there  may  be  pity,  there  may  be  faith,  there  may  be  a  pro¬ 
phetic  anticipating  love  for  the  sinner  and  the  criminal,  as  we 
recall  their  origin  and  forecast  the  possibilities  of  their  future  ;  but 
love  in  the  highest  sense,  —  love  that  delights  in  and  admires  its 
object,  love  that  is  sure  of  a  response,  the  sense  of  brotherhood 
which  knows  that  it  can  trust  a  brother,  —  these  are  not  possible 
with  the  wanton,  the  selfish,  the  hypocrite.  Though  man  has 
social  instincts  which  draw  him  into  co-operation  with  others,  he 
has  also  tendencies  to  selfishness  and  impurity  which  work  against 
the  spirit  of  brotherhood  and  make  it  impossible.  Not  till  we 
have  some  security  that  the  man’s  real  self  is  on  the  side  of  un¬ 
selfishness  can  we  trust  him  ;  and  baptism,  with  its  gifts  of  grace, 
baptism  with  its  death  to  the  selfish  nature,  baptism  with  its  pro¬ 
fession  of  allegiance  to  the  leadership  of  Christ,  this,  at  least, 
gives  us  some  security.  Even  Comte,  with  his  longing  for  brother¬ 
hood,  tells  us  that  in  forming  our  conception  of  humanity  we  must 
not  take  in  all  men,  but  those  only  who  are  really  assimilable,  in 
virtue  of  a  real  co-operation  towards  the  common  existence  ;  and 
Mr.  Cotter  Morison  would  eliminate  and  suppress  those  who  have 
no  altruistic  affection.  We  limit,  then,  only  so  far  as  seems  neces¬ 
sary  to  gain  reality ;  we  train  men  in  the  narrower  circle  of  brother¬ 
hood  that  they  may  become  enthusiasts  for  it,  and  go  forth  as 
missionaries  to  raise  others  to  their  own  level.  As  for  those  who 
lie  outside  Christianity,  the  Church,  like  our  Lord  Himself  in  the 
parable  of  the  sheep  and  the  goats,  like  St.  Paul  in  his  anticipation 
of  the  judgment  day,  recognizes  all  the  good  there  is  in  them  ; 
like  Justin  Martyr  and  many  of  the  early  Fathers,  it  traces  in  them 
the  work  of  the  Divine  Word  ;  and  yet  none  the  less  did  these 
writers  claim,  and  does  the  Church  still  claim  for  itself,  the  con¬ 
scious  gift  of  spiritual  life,  in  a  sense  higher  than  anything  that  lies 
outside  itself. 


320  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

But  many  who  would  follow  thus  far  would  draw  another  line, 
and  would  include  within  the  Church  all  the  baptized,  whether 
professing  Churchmen  or  not.  Once  more,  so  far  as  we  draw  any 
distinction  within  the  limits  of  the  baptized,  it  is  for  the  sake  of 
reality.  We  recognize  that  every  atom  of  their  faith  is  genuine, 
that  so  far  as  they  have  one  Lord,  one  faith,  one  baptism,  they  are 
true  members  of  the  Church ;  that  so  far  as  they  have  banded 
themselves  together  into  a  society,  they  have  something  akin  to 
the  reality  of  the  Church,  and  gain  some  of  its  social  blessings. 
But  then  it  is  they  who  have  banded  themselves  together  into  a 
society ;  and  that  means  they  have  done  it  at  their  own  risk. 
We  rest  upon  the  validity  of  our  sacraments,  because  they  were 
founded  by  the  Lord  Himself,  because  they  have  His  special 
promises,  because  they  have  been  handed  down  in  regular  and 
valid  channels  to  us.  Have  they  equal  security  that  their  sacraments 
are  valid  ?  Again,  we  must  hold  that  schism  means  something 
of  evil ;  that  it  causes  weakness;  that  it  thus  prevents  the  full 
work  of  brotherhood,  of  knitting  Christian  with  Christian  in  com¬ 
mon  worship  ;  that  so  it  prevents  the  complete  witness  of  the 
Church  in  the  world ;  that  in  so  far  as  such  Christians  are  schis¬ 
matic,  they  are  untrue  and  harmful  members  of  the  Church.  The 
full  complete  claim  of  the  Church  is  that  it  is  a  body  visibly  meet¬ 
ing  together  in  a  common  life,  and  forming  by  historical  continuity 
a  part  of  the  actual  body  founded  by  our  Lord  Himself.  It  would 
be  unreal  to  apply  this  conception  of  a  complete  historic  brother¬ 
hood  to  those  who  have  separated  themselves  from  the  Church’s 
worship,  and  whose  boast  is  that  they  were  founded  by  Wesley, 
or  Luther,  or  Calvin.  A  Church  so  founded  is  not  historically 
founded  by  Christ ;  it  may  have  been  founded  to  carry  on  the 
work  of  Christ,  it  may  have  been  founded  in  imitation  of  Him, 
and  with  the  sincerest  loyalty  to  His  person,  but  it  cannot  be 
said  to  have  been  founded  by  Him.  Even  if  circumstances 
have  justified  it,  it  is  at  any  rate  not  the  ideal ;  and  whatever  con¬ 
fessions  the  historic  Church  may  have  to  make  of  its  own  short¬ 
comings,  it  still  must  witness  to  the  ideal  of  a  visible  unity  and 
historical  continuity.  Amid  the  divisions  of  Christendom,  and  in 
face  of  her  own  shortcomings,  the  Church  of  England  does  not 
claim  to  be  the  full  complete  representation  of  the  Church  of 
Christ.  She  is  only  one  national  expression  of  the  Catholic 
Church  ;  she  feels  that  ‘  it  is  safer  for  us  to  widen  the  pale  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  than  to  deny  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit ;  ’ 1  she  has 


1  Bp.  Forbes,  Explanation  of  the  Nicene  Creed,  p.  290. 


ix.  The  Church. 


32i 


ever  on  her  lips  the  prayer,  ‘Remember  not,  Lord,  our  offences,  nor 
the  offences  of  our  forefathers,  neither  take  vengeance  of  our  sins  ;  ’ 
and  yet  she  must  make  her  claim  boldly  and  fearlessly  to  have  re¬ 
tained  the  true  ideal  of  the  Church  ;  to  be  loyal  to  the  essential  prin¬ 
ciple  that  her  life  comes  historically  from  Christ,  and  not  from  man. 

II.  But  the  Church  is  the  school  of  truth  as  well  as  the  school 
of  virtue.  Its  ministers  form  a  priesthood  of  truth  as  well  as  a 
priesthood  of  sacrifice.  Its  priests’  lips  have  ‘  to  keep  knowledge.’ 
Christianity  is,  as  the  school  of  Alexandria  loved  to  represent  it,  a 
Divine  philosophy,  and  the  Church  its  school. 

This  conception  of  the  Church  starts  from  our  Lord’s  own 
words.  His  Apostles  are  to  be  as  scribes  instructed  unto  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven ;  they  are  to  have  the  scribes’  power  to  decide 
what  is  and  what  is  not  binding  in  the  kingdom  ;  the  Spirit  is  to 
lead  them  into  all  truth  ;  they  are  to  make  disciples  of  all  the 
nations,  ‘  teaching  them  to  observe  all  things  whatsoever  I  com¬ 
manded  you.’  The  function  of  the  Church  then  with  regard  to 
truth  is  primarily  to  bear  witness  to  that  which  has  been  revealed. 
It  does  not  primarily  reveal,  it  tells  of  the  truths  which  have  been 
embodied  in  the  historic  life  of  Jesus  Christ  or  explained  in  His 
teaching.  ‘  One  is  its  teacher  ;  One  is  its  master,  even  the  Christ.’ 
It  holds  a  ‘  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.’  Hence,  from  the 
first,  there  grew  up  some  quasi-authoritative  formula,  in  which  we 
can  see  the  germ  of  the  later  Creeds,  which  each  Christian  Mis¬ 
sionary  would  teach  to  his  converts.  St.  Paul  himself  received 
from  others  and  handed  on  to  the  Corinthians,  as  his  first  message 
to  them,  some  such  half-stereotyped  Creed,  narrating  the  central 
facts  of  the  Death  and  Resurrection  of  the  Lord ;  his  teaching 
was  as  a  mould  which  shaped  the  lives  of  the  converts  as  they  were 
poured,  like  so  much  molten  metal,  into  it.  It  was  authoritative, 
not  even  an  angel  from  heaven  could  preach  another  gospel.  As 
time  went  on,  and  false  teaching  spread,  this  side  of  the  Church’s 
work  is  emphasized  more  and  more.  The  Church  is  to  be  the 
pillar  and  ground-work  of  the  truth.  Timothy  and  Titus  are  to 
hold  fast  the  deposit  to  prevent  false  teaching,  to  secure  whole¬ 
someness  of  doctrine  no  less  than  sobriety  of  life. 

The  contests  of  the  next  centuries  bring  out  this  idea  of  witness 
into  clearer  prominence,  and  the  Episcopate,  as  it  had  been  the 
guarantee  of  unity,  becomes  now  the  guarantee  of  truth.  Thus, 
St.  Ignatius  is  face  to  face  with  Docetic  and  Gnostic  teaching  ;  with 
him  the  bishops  are  ‘in  the  mind  of  Jesus  Christ they  are  to  be 
treated  ‘  as  the  Lord  ;  ’  to  avoid  heresy,  it  is  necessary  to  avoid 
‘separation  from  the  God  of  Jesus  Christ,  from  the  Bishop  and  the 

21 


322 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


ordinances  of  the  Apostles ;  ’  the  one  Bishop  is  ranked  with  the 
one  Eucharist,  the  one  flesh  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  one  cup,  the  one 
altar,  as  the  source  of  unity ;  submission  to  the  Bishop  and  the 
Presbyters  is  a  means  towards  holiness,  towards  spiritual  strength 
and  spiritual  joy.1  These  are  incidental  expressions  in  letters 
written  at  a  moment  of  spiritual  excitement ;  but  the  same  appeal 
reappears  in  calmer  controversial  treatises.  St.  Irenasus  argues 
against  Gnosticism  on  exactly  the  same  grounds.  Truth  is  essen¬ 
tially  a  thing  received ;  it  was  received  by  the  Apostles  from  Christ. 
He  was  the  truth  Himself;  He  revealed  it  to  His  Apostles;  they 
embodied  it  in  their  writings  and  handed  it  on  to  the  Bishops  and 
Presbyters  who  succeeded  them ;  hence  the  test  of  truth  is  to  be 
sought  in  Holy  Scripture  and  in  the  teaching  of  those  Churches 
which  were  founded  directly  by  the  Apostles.2  With  equal  strength 
Tertullian  urges  that  the  truth  was  received  b)  the  churches  from 
the  Apostles,  by  the  Apostles  from  Christ,  by  Christ  from  God;  it 
is  therefore  independent  of  individuals  ;  it  must  be  sought  for  in 
Holy  Scripture  ;  but  as  the  canon  of  that  is  not  fixed,  and  its 
interpretation  is  at  times  doubtful,  it  must  be  supplemented  by  the 
evidence  of  the  Apostolic  Churches  ;  and  he  challenges  the  heretics 
to  produce  the  origin  of  their  churches  and  show  that  the  series  of 
bishops  runs  back  to  some  Apostle  or  Apostolic  man.3 

The  Church  is  thus  primarily  a  witness  :  the  strength  of  its  au¬ 
thority  lies  in  the  many  sides  from  which  the  witness  comes  :  but 
the  exigencies  of  controversy,  and  indeed  of  thought  even  apart 
from  controversy,  rendered  necessary  another  function  in  respect 
to  truth.  The  Church  was  compelled  to  formulate,  to  express 
its  witness  in  relation  to  the  intellectual  difficulties  of  the  time. 
Christianity  is  indeed  essentially  a  matter  not  of  the  intellect,  but 
of  the  will,  a  personal  relation  of  trust  in  a  personal  God.  Its  first 
instinct  is,  as  the  first  instinct  of  friendship  would  be,  to  resent 
intellectual  analysis  and  dogmatic  definition.  But  as  the  need  of 
telling  others  about  a  friend,  or  defending  him  against  slander, 
would  compel  us  to  analyze  his  qualities  and  define  his  attractive¬ 
ness  ;  so  it  was  with  the  Church’s  relation  to  the  Lord.  It  bore 
witness  to  the  impression  which  His  life  had  made  upon  His  fol¬ 
lowers  that  He  was  Divine  ;  it  bore  witness  to  the  facts  of  the  life 
that  attested  it,  and  to  His  own  statements.  But  the  claim  was 
denied ;  it  needed  justifying ;  it  needed  to  be  shown  to  be  con- 

1  Ad  Eph.,  ii.  iii.  vi.  xx.;  ad  Trail.,  vii.  xiii ;  ad  Phil.,  iv.  vii.;  ad  Smyrn., 
viii.  ix. 

2  Irenasus,  adv.  Haer.,  cp.  esp.  i.  io,  ii.  9,  iii.  1,  2,  3,  5,  12,  24. 

3  Praescript.  adv.  Haereticos;  cp.  esp.  3,  6,  15-21. 


ix.  The  Church. 


323 


sistent  with  other  truths,  such  as  the  unity  of  God,  and  the  reality 
of  His  own  human  nature,  and  so  definition  was  forced  upon  the 
Church.  The  germ  of  such  definitions  is  found  in  the  New  Testa¬ 
ment  ;  the  deeper  Christological  teaching  of  the  Epistles  to  the 
Ephesians  and  to  the  Colossians,  and  of  the  prologue  of  St.  John, 
are  instances  of  such  intellectual  analysis  and  formulation,  and 
were  evidently  written  in  the  face  of  controversy.  The  technical 
decisions  of  the  great  councils  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  and 
their  expression  in  the  Nicene  and  ‘Athanasian’  Creeds  are  the 
outcome  of  the  same  tendency.  Yet  even  in  them  the  Church 
acts,  in  a  sense,  as  a  witness  ;  the  Scriptures  are  appealed  to  as 
the  ultimate  authority ;  the  Creed  is  the  summary  of  its  chief  doc¬ 
trines  ;  the  one  aim  is  to  secure  and  express  the  truth  witnessed  to 
by  churches  throughout  the  world,  to  eliminate  novelty  and  caprice  ; 
the  new  definitions  are  accepted,  because  they  alone  are  felt  to 
express  the  instinct  of  the  Church’s  worship.  By  this  time  the 
canon  of  Holy  Scripture  was  fixed.  It  becomes  thenceforth  an 
undying  fountain  of  life,  from  which  the  water  of  pure  doctrine  can  be 
drawn.  Tradition  and  development  can  always  be  checked  by  that. 

In  the  truths  then  which  the  Church  teaches  we  may  distinguish 
two  classes.  First,  there  are  the  central  truths  to  which  it  bears 
absolute  witness  ;  such  as  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  the  Person  and 
work  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  Redemption  of  all  mankind,  the  origin 
and  purpose  of  human  life.  These  it  teaches  authoritatively.  Its 
conduct  is  exactly  analogous  to  that  of  a  parent  teaching  the  moral 
law  to  his  children  ;  teaching  the  commandments  authoritatively 
at  first,  till  the  child  can  be  educated  to  understand  the  reason  of 
them.  So  the  Church  says  to  her  children,  or  to  those  who  are 
seeking  after  truth,  ‘  there  is  an  absolute  truth  in  religion  as  well  as 
in  morality ;  we  have  tested  it ;  generations  of  the  saints  have 
found  it  true.  It  is  a  truth  independent  of  individual  teachers  ; 
independent  of  the  shifting  moods  of  opinion  at  any  particular 
period;  and  you  must  accept  it  on  our  authority  first.  Further, 
these  are  truths  which  affect  life,  therefore  they  cannot  be  appre¬ 
hended  merely  by  the  intellect.  You  must  commit  yourself  to 
them  ;  act  upon  them ;  there  is  a  time  when  the  seeker  after  truth 
sees  where  it  lies  ;  then  it  must  cease  to  be  an  open  question. 
“  You  must  seek  till  you  find,  but  when  you  have  once  found  truth, 
you  must  commit  yourself  to  it.” 1  You  must  believe  that  you 
may  understand  ;  but  it  is  that  you  may  understand/  The  dogma 

J  Tertullian,  Praescr.,  9:  ‘  Quaerendum  est  donee  invenias,  et  credendum 
ubi  inveneris.’ 


324  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

is  authoritatively  taught,  that  the  individual  may  be  kept  safe  from 
mere  individual  caprice  and  fancifulness,  but  also  that  he  himself 
may  come  to  a  rational  understanding  of  his  belief.  No  doubt 
the  truth  is  so  wide  that  to  the  end  of  our  lives  we  shall  still  feel 
the  need  of  guidance  and  of  teaching.  ‘  As  long  as  we  live,’  said 
Calvin,  ‘  our  weakness  will  not  allow  us  to  be  discharged  from 
school.’  Like  St.  Ignatius  on  his  way  to  martyrdom,  the  Christian 
may  feel  at  his  dying  day,  ‘Now  I  begin  to  be  a  disciple  but 
the  aim  of  the  Church  is  to  make  each  member  have  a  rational 
hold  upon  his  faith.  When  we  are  young,  we  accept  a  doctrine 
because  the  Church  teaches  it  to  us ;  when  we  are  grown  up,  we 
love  the  Church  because  it  taught  us  the  doctrine.  ‘  The  Church¬ 
man  never  surrenders  his  individual  responsibility.  But  he  may 
and  must  surrender  some  portion  at  least  of  his  independence, 
and  he  benefits  greatly  by  the  surrender.’ 1  ‘  Submission  to  the 

authority  of  the  Church  is  the  merging  of  our  mere  individualism 
in  the  whole  historic  life  of  the  great  Christian  brotherhood  ;  it  is 
making  ourselves  at  one  with  the  one  religion  in  its  most  perma¬ 
nent  and  least  merely  local  form.  It  is  surrendering  our  individu¬ 
ality  only  to  empty  it  of  its  narrowness.’ 2 

Secondly,  there  are  other  truths,  which  are  rather  deductions 
from  these  central  points  or  statements  of  them  in  accordance  with 
the  needs  of  the  age ;  such  as  the  mode  of  the  relation  of  the 
Divine  and  human  natures  in  Christ,  of  free-will  to  predestination, 
or  the  method  of  the  Atonement,  or  the  nature  of  the  Inspiration 
of  Holy  Scripture.  If,  in  any  case,  a  point  of  this  kind  has  con¬ 
sciously  come  before  the  whole  Church  and  been  reasoned  out 
and  been  decided  upon,  such  a  decision  raises  it  into  the  higher 
class  of  truths  which  are  taught  authoritatively ;  but  if  this  is  not 
so,  the  matter  remains  an  open  question.  It  remains  a  question 
for  the  theologians  ;  it  is  not  imposed  on  individual  Christians ; 
though  it  may  at  any  time  become  ripe  for  decision.  The  very 
fixity  of  the  great  central  doctrines  allows  the  Church  to  give  a 
remarkable  freedom  to  individual  opinion  on  all  other  points. 
Practically,  how  much  wider  is  the  summary  of  the  rule  of  faith 
as  given  in  Irenaeus  (iii.  4),  or  Tertullian  (Prasscr.,  13),  or  Origen 
(De  Principiis),  or  in  the  Apostles’  or  Nicene  Creed,  than  the 
tests  of  orthodoxy  that  would  be  imposed  in  a  modern  religious 
or  scientific  circle  !  St.  Vincent  of  Lerins  is  the  great  champion 
of  antiquity  as  the  test  of  truth ;  yet  he,  who  lays  it  down  that  ‘  to 

1  Hawkins’  Sermons  on  the  Church,  p.  77. 

2  Rev.  C.  Gore,  Roman  Catholic  Claims,  p.  51. 


ix.  The  Church. 


325 


declare  any  new  truth  to  Catholic  Christians  over  and  above  that 
which  they  have  received  never  was  allowed,  nowhere  is  allowed, 
and  never  will  be  allowed,’  also  insists  on  the  duty  of  development, 
of  growth,  within  the  true  lines  of  the  central  truths.  ‘  Is  there,’ 
he  assumes  an  objector  to  urge,  ‘  to  be  no  growth  within  the 
Church?  Nay,  let  there  be  growth  to  the  greatest  extent;  who 
would  be  so  grudging  to  man,  such  an  enemy  to  God,  as  to  attempt 
to  prevent  it ;  but  yet  let  it  be  such  that  it  be  growth,  not  change 
of  the  faith.  .  .  .  As  time  goes  on,  it  is  right  that  the  old  truths 
should  be  elaborated,  polished,  tiled  down  ;  it  is  wrong  that  they 
should  be  changed,  maimed,  or  mutilated.  They  should  be  made 
clear,  have  light  thrown  on  them,  be  marked  off  from  each  other ; 
but  they  must  not  lose  their  fulness,  their  entirety,  their  essential 
character.’ 1  So  it  has  happened  in  the  course  of  the  Christian 
history ;  doctrines  like  that  of  the  Atonement  have  been  restated 
afresh  to  meet  the  needs  of  the  age.  So  it  is  happening  still ; 
doctrines  like  that  of  the  method  of  creation  or  of  the  limits  of 
inspiration  are  still  before  the  Church.  The  Church  is  slow  to 
decide,  to  formulate  ;  it  stands  aside,  it  reiterates  its  central  truths, 
it  says  that  whatever  claims  to  be  discovered  must  ultimately  fit  in 
with  the  central  truths  ;  creation  must  remain  God’s  work  ;  the  Bible 
must  remain  God’s  revelation  of  Himself ;  but  for  a  time  it  is  content 
to  wait,  loyal  to  fact  from  whatever  side  it  comes  ;  confident  alike 
in  the  many-sidedness  and  in  the  unity  of  truth.  While  he  accepts 
and  while  he  searches,  the  Churchman  can  enjoy  alike  the  inquiry 
of  truth,  which  is  the  love-making  or  wooing  of  it,  the  knowledge 
of  truth,  which  is  the  presence  of  it,  and  the  belief  of  truth, 
which  is  the  enjoying  of  it ;  and  all  these  together,  says  Lord 
Bacon,  are  the  sovereign  good  of  human  nature.2 

Thus  far  we  have  in  this  part  considered  the  Church’s  function 
with  regard  to  truth  from  the  point  of  view  of  those  whom  it  has 
to  teach.  Its  function  is  no  less  important  from  the  point  of  view 
of  the  truth  itself.  As  spiritual  life  is  a  tender  plant  that  needs 
care  and  training  ;  so  spiritual  truth  is  a  precious  gem  that  may 
easily  be  lost,  and  therefore  needs  careful  guarding.  ‘  The  gem 
requires  a  casket,  the  casket  a  keeper.’  Truth  is  indeed  great,  and 
will  prevail,  but  not  apart  from  the  action  of  men  ;  not  unless 
there  are  those  who  believe  in  it,  take  pains  about  it  and  propagate 
it.  This  is  the  case  even  with  scientific  truths  ;  a  fortiori ,  there¬ 
fore,  with  moral  and  religious  truths  which  affect  life  and  need  to 


1  Commonitorium,  ix.  and  xxiii. 

2  Bacon,  Essay  on  Truth. 


32 6  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

be  translated  into  life  before  they  can  be  really  understood.  The 
comparative  study  of  religions  is  showing  us  more  and  more  how 
much  of  deep  spiritual  truth  there  is  in  heathen  religions,  but  it  is 
showing  us  equally  how  little  power  this  truth  had  to  hold  its  own, 
how  it  was  overlaid,  crushed  out,  stitled.  The  truth  of  the  unity 
of  God  underlies  much  of  the  polytheism  of  India,  Greece,  and 
Rome ;  but  it  is  only  the  philosopher  and  the  scholar  that  can  find 
it  there.  It  is  only  in  the  Jewish  Church,  the  nation  which  stood 
alone  from  other  nations  as  a  witness  to  the  truth,  that  it  retained 
its  hold  as  a  permanent  force.  The  Fatherhood  of  God  is  implied 
in  the  very  names  and  titles  of  most  of  the  chief  heathen  gods ; 
but  what  a  difference  in  its  meaning  and  force  since  the  time  of 
Jesus  Christ  !  It  is  not  only  that  He  expanded  and  deepened  its 
meaning,  so  that  it  implied  the  fatherhood  of  all  men  alike,  and  a 
communication  of  a  spiritual  nature  to  all ;  it  is  also,  and  much 
more,  that  He  committed  the  truth  as  a  sacred  deposit  to  a 
Church,  each  member  of  which  aimed  at  showing  himself  as  the 
son  of  a  perfect  Father,  and  which  witnessed  to  the  universal 
Fatherhood  by  the  fact  of  a  universal  brotherhood. 

The  very  truths  of  natural  religion,  which  heathenism  tended  to 
degrade,  found  a  safe  home  within  the  Church  ;  the  knowledge  of 
the  Creator,  His  eternal  power  and  Godhead,  which  the  nations 
had  known  but  lost,  because  they  glorified  Him  not  as  God,  neither 
were  thankful,  has  been  kept  alive  in  the  Eucharistic  services  of 
the  Church,  repeating  through  the  ages  its  praise  of  the  Creator : 

‘  We  praise  Thee,  we  bless  Thee,  we  worship  Thee,  we  give  thanks 
to  Thee,  for  Thy  great  glory,  O  Lord  God,  heavenly  King,  God 
the  Father  Almighty.’ 

III.  We  pass  naturally  to  the  third  point:  the  Church  is  the 
home  of  worship.  It  is  the  Temple  of  the  Lord.  As  a  teaching 
body,  it  had  carried  on  and  spiritualized  the  work  of  the  Jewish 
Synagogue :  it  also  took  up  and  spiritualized  the  conceptions  of 
prayer  and  praise  and  sacrifice  which  clustered  round  the  Jewish 
Temple.  The  Body  of  Christ  was  to  take  the  place  of  the  Temple 
when  the  Jews  destroyed  it.1  And  here,  as  in  all  other  respects, 
the  body  is  the  organ  and  representative  of  the  risen  Lord.  He, 
when  on  earth,  had  been  a  priest  in  the  deepest  sense  of  the  word ; 
He,  as  the  representative  of  the  Father,  had  mediated  the  Father’s 
blessings  to  man  ;  He,  as  one  with  man,  had  become  a  merciful  and 
faithful  high-priest  for  man ;  He  had  offered  his  whole  life  to  God 
for  the  service  of  man;  He  had  by  the  offering  of  His  pure  will 


1  St.  John  ii.  19-21. 


ix.  The  Church . 


327 


made  purification  of  sins ;  He  lives  still,  a  priest  forever,  pleading, 
interceding  for  mankind. 

And  so  the  Church,  His  body,  carries  on  this  priestly  work  on 
earth.  ‘  Sacerdotalism,  priestliness,  is  the  prime  element  of  her 
being.’ 1  She  is  the  source  of  blessing  to  mankind ;  she  pleads 
and  intercedes  and  gives  herself  for  all  mankind.  Christians,  as 
a  body,  are  ‘  a  royal  priesthood.’  Christ  made  them  ‘  priests  unto 
His  God  and  Father,’  they  can  ‘  enter  into  the  holy  place,’  like 
priests,  ‘  with  hearts  sprinkled  from  an  evil  conscience  and  bodies 
washed  with  pure  water.’  They  are  ‘  the  genuine  high-priestly 
race  of  God  :  ’  ‘  every  righteous  man  ranks  as  a  priest :  ’  *  to  the 
whole  Church  is  a  priesthood  given.’2  This  priesthood  is  exercised 
throughout  life,  as  each  Christian  gives  his  life  to  God’s  service, 
and  the  whole  Church  devotes  itself  for  the  good  of  the  whole 
world.  But  it  finds  its  expression  in  worship,  for  worship  is  the 
Godward  aspect  of  life.  It  expresses,  it  emphasizes,  it  helps  to 
make  permanent,  the  feelings  that  mould  life.  It  is  the  recognition 
that  our  life  comes  from  God  :  that  it  has  been  redeemed  by  God  ; 
it  is  the  quiet  joyous  resting  upon  the  facts  of  His  love  ;  it  is  the 
conscious  spiritual  offering  of  our  life  to  God  ;  it  is  the  adoration 
of  His  majesty.  This  worship  the  Church  leads  and  organizes. 
‘  In  the  Church  and  in  Christ  Jesus  ’  is  to  be  given  k  the  glory  to 
God  unto  all  generations  for  ever  and  ever.’  In  the  Apocalypse,  it 
is  pictured  as  praising  God  alike  for  His  work  in  Creation  and  in 
Redemption.  In  the  Eucharist  the  Church  shows  forth  the  Lord’s 
Death  till  He  come.3  Hence  this  act  of  Eucharistic  worship, 
above  all  others,  has  become  the  centre  of  unity.  In  it  the  Church 
has  offered  its  best  to  God  :  all  the  more  external  gifts  of  art,  such 
as  architecture,  painting,  and  music,  have  been  consecrated  in 
worship ;  but  deeper  still,  in  it  each  Christian  has  taken  up  his 
own  life,  his  body  and  soul,  and  offered  it  as  a  holy,  lively,  and 
reasonable  sacrifice  unto  God,  a  service  in  spirit  and  in  truth  :  and 
deeper  still,  he  recognizes  that  his  life  does  not  stand  alone  ; 
through  the  common  ties  of  humanity  in  Christ  he  is  linked  on  by 
a  strange  solidarity  with  all  mankind  ;  his  life  depends  on  theirs 
and  theirs  on  his,  and  so  he  offers  it  not  for  himself  only  but  for 

1  From  a  striking  and  bold  article  by  Professor  Milligan  in  the  Exposi¬ 
tor,  March,  1SS9. 

2  1  St.  Peter  ii.  9;  Rev.  i.  6;  Heb.  x.  19.  Justin  Martyr,  Dialog,  c. 
Tryph.,  116;  Irenaeus,  iv.  8;  Origen,  Horn.  vi.  in  Lev.  5.  For  other 
instances,  cp.  Seeberg,  ubi  sufra,  or  Gore,  Church  and  the  Ministrv, 
pp.  S7-90. 

3  Eph.  iii.  21  (R.  V.'  •  Rev.  iv.  11,  v.  11-14;  1  Cor.  xi.  26. 


328 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


all ;  in  the  power  of  Christ  he  intercedes  for  all  mankind  :  and 
leeper  still,  he  feels  in  the  presence  of  the  Holiness  of  God  how 
unworthy  his  own  offering  and  his  own  prayers  are,  and  he  pleads, 
he  recalls  before  the  Father,  as  the  source  of  his  own  hope  and  his 
own  power  of  self-sacrifice,  the  one  complete  offering  made  for  all 
mankind. 

So  the  Church  performs  its  universal  priesthood ; 1  so  it  leads  a 
worship,  bright,  joyous,  amidst  all  the  trials  and  perplexities  of  the 
world,  for  it  tells  of  suffering  vanquished  ;  simple  in  its  essence, 
so  that  poor  as  well  as  rich  can  rally  round  it ;  yet  deep  and  pro¬ 
found  in  its  mysteries,  so  that  the  most  intellectual  cannot  fathom 
it.  It  is  a  universal  priesthood,  for  it  needs  the  consecration  of 
every  life  :  and  yet  this  function  too  of  the  Church  naturally  has 
its  organs,  whose  task  it  is  to  make  its  offerings  and  to  stand  before 
it  as  the  types  of  self-consecration.  The  Church  has  from  the  first 
special  persons  who  perform  its  liturgy,  its  public  ministering  to 
the  Lord.2  It  is  in  connection  with  worship,  and  the  meetings 
of  the  Church  that  St.  Paul  emphasizes  the  need  of  unity  and 
subordination,  and  dwells  upon  God’s  special  setting  of  Apostles, 
Prophets,  and  Teachers  in  the  Church.3  The  Epistle  of  Clement 
to  the  Corinthians  may  be  open  to  difficult  questions  of  interpre¬ 
tation  in  its  language  about  the  ministry,  but  this  at  least  is  clear, 
that  order  and  subordination  are  treated  as  the  necessary  outcome 
of  love,  which  is  of  the  essence  of  the  Church  ;  that  this  order  and 
subordination  is  specially  needed  in  all  details  of  worship ;  that  it 
had  been  so  in  Judaism,  and  must  be  so,  a  fortiori ,  in  the  Chris¬ 
tian  Church  ;  that  as  Christ  came  from  God,  so  the  Apostles  from 
Christ,  and  their  successors  from  them  ;  and  therefore  it  must  be 
wrong  to  throw  off  subordination  to  those  who  were  so  appointed 
and  who  have  blamelessly  offered  the  gifts.4  ‘  The  Church,’  said 
St.  Augustine,  ‘  from  the  time  of  the  Apostles,  through  most 
undoubted  succession  of  the  bishops,  perseveres  till  the  present 
moment,  and  offers  to  God  in  the  Body  of  Christ  the  sacrifice  of 
praise.’ 6  As  the  teaching  function  of  the  whole  Church  does  not 

1  Cf  the  striking  account  of  the  true  Christian  sacrifice  in  St.  Aug.,  de 
Civ.  Dei,  x.  6  :  ‘  Profecto  efficitur  ut  tota  ipsa  redempta  civitas,  hoc  est  con- 
gregatio  societasque  sanctorum  universale  sacrificium  offeratur  Deo  per 
sacerdotem  magnum,  qui  etiam  se  ipsum  obtulit  in  passione  pro  nobis,  ut 
tanti  capitis  corpus  essemus.  .  .  .  Hoc  est  sacrificium  Christianorum,  multi 
unum  corpus  in  Christo.  Quod  etiam  Sacramento  altaris  fidelibus  noto 
frequentat  ecclesia,  ut  ei  demonstretur,  quod  in  ea  re,  quam  offert,  ipsa 
offeratur.’ 

2  Acts  xiii.  i.  3  i  Cor.  xi  -xiv.  ;  cp.  I  Tim.  ii. 

4  Clem.,  ad  Cor.  i.,  esp.  40-45.  5  Contra  Adv.  Leg.  ct  Troph.,  xx.  39. 


ix.  The  Church . 


3^9 


militate  against  the  special  order  of  teachers,  so  the  priestly  func¬ 
tion  of  the  whole  does  not  militate  against  a  special  order  of 
priests.  We  cannot  speak  of  those  who  are  ordained  as  ‘  going 
into  the  Church/  —  and  it  is  hard  to  estimate  the  harm  done  by 
that  fatal  phrase,  —  for  that  implies  that  the  laity  are  not  of  the 
Church,  but  we  can  call  them  priests  in  a  special  sense  ;  for  they 
give  themselves  up  in  a  deeper  way  to  the  service  of  God,  —  they 
are  specially  trained  and  purified  lor  His  service  ;  they  are  put  as 
representatives  of  the  whole  Church  in  a  way  in  which  no  other  is, 
able  to  know  and  to  sympathize  with  its  wants,  its  joys,  its  failings ; 
able  therefore  to  intercede  for  it  with  God  and  to  bring  His  bless¬ 
ings  to  it.  As  the  Church  stands  in  relation  to  the  world,  so  they 
stand  to  the  Church ;  they  fill  up  that  which  is  lacking  of  the 
afflictions  of  Christ  in  their  flesh  for  His  body’s  sake  which  is  the 
Church,  whereof  they  are  made  ministers ;  they  convey  spiritual 
gifts  and  benediction  to  the  Church. 

To  complete  the  conception  of  the  Church,  it  would  be  neces¬ 
sary  to  add  the  thought  of  the  Church  expectant  and  triumphant, 
the  presence  of  the  blessed  dead.  For  they  too  strengthen  and 
complete  each  aspect  of  the  Church’s  work.  The  great  cloud  of 
witnesses,  the  heroes  of  faith,  who  watch  their  brethren  on  earth, 
they,  by  their  example,  aid  the  spiritual  life  and  strengthen  us  to 
lay  aside  every  weight  and  the  sin  that  doth  so  easily  beset  us  ; 
their  virtues  reflect  parts  of  the  manifold  glory  of  the  Son  of  Man. 
With  their  heirs  noblesse  oblige ;  each  Christian  born  of  such  ances¬ 
try  is  able  to  be,  like  the  Athenian  Lycurgus,  independent  of  the 
world,  bold  and  outspoken,  because  of  his  noble  birth.1  The 
record  of  their  writings  strengthens  the  witness  to  the  faith  once 
delivered  to  the  saints,  and  binds  us  to  loyalty  to  that  which  has 
stood  the  test  of  ages.  They,  1  the  general  assembly  and  church  of 
the  firstborn  enrolled  in  heaven,’  themselves,  we  believe,  worship 
God  with  a  purer  worship  than  ours  ;  the  thought  of  their  pres¬ 
ence  in  worship,  as  we  join  with  angels  and  archangels  and  all 
the  company  of  heaven,  lifts  our  hearts  to  a  wider,  more  spiritual 
adoration. 

But  for  our  present  purpose  it  is  with  the  Church  militant  we 
have  to  deal :  the  Church  on  earth,  the  visible  organ  of  the  risen 
Lord,  the  organ  of  redemption,  of  revelation,  of  worship  ;  the  chief 
instrument  designed  by  the  Lord  for  the  establishment  of  the  king¬ 
dom  of  Heaven  upon  earth.  That  is  our  ideal  of  it.  But  what  of 
the  reality?  of  the  historical  facts?  Has  not  the  Church  crushed 


1  Uappi]criaaT^s  Sia  ttjv  zvyivciav,  Plutarch.,  Vitse  x  Orat.,  7. 


330  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

out  individual  life  and  freedom  ?  has  it  not  thrown  its  shield  over 
laxity?  has  it  not  repressed  zeal,  and  so  driven  piety  into  noncon¬ 
formity  ?  has  it  not  tried  to  check  scientific  truth  and  condemned 
a  Galileo  ?  has  it  not  made  worship  a  matter  of  form  and  reduced 
it  to  externalism  ?  So  its  opponents  ask,  and  its  defenders  admit 
that  there  is  much  of  truth  in  these  charges.  They  admit  that  it 
has  looked  very  different  from  its  ideal.  ‘  It  has  looked  like  an 
obscure  and  unpopular  sect ;  it  has  looked  like  a  wonderful 
human  institution  vying  with  the  greatest  in  age  and  power;  it  has 
looked  like  a  great  usurpation  ;  it  has  looked  like  an  overgrown 
and  worn-out  system  ;  it  has  been  obscured  by  the  outward  acci¬ 
dents  of  splendor  or  disaster ;  it  has  been  enriched,  it  has  been 
plundered  ;  at  one  time  throned  above  emperors,  at  another  under 
the  heel  of  the  vilest ;  it  has  been  dishonored  by  the  crimes  of  its 
governors,  by  truckling  to  the  world,  by  the  idolatry  of  power,  by 
greed  and  selfishness,  by  their  unbelief  in  their  own  mission,  by 
the  deep  stain  of  profligacy,  by  the  deep  stain  of  blood.’  1  The 
Church  has,  indeed,  many  confessions  to  make,  of  its  failure  to  be 
true  to  its  ideal.  But  there  are  several  considerations  which  must 
be  borne  in  mind  when  we  pass  judgment  upon  it. 

In  the  first  place,  it  was  committed  to  human  hands,  ‘  the  treas¬ 
ure  is  in  earthen  vessels  ;  ’  and  while  it  gains  thus  in  reality,  in 
human  sympathy,  in  touching  the  facts  of  every-day  life,  it  is  exposed 
to  all  the  risks  of  imperfection,  mistake,  perversion.  But  further,  as 
St.  Augustine  said,  we  still  can  say,  ‘  Non  adhuc  regnat  hoc  regnum.’ 
The  Church  has  never  had  free  play ;  it  has  never  been  in  a  posi¬ 
tion  to  carry  out  its  ideal.  At  first,  a  persecuted  sect,  it  had  not 
the  power  ;  then,  when  it  became  established  and  gained  the  power, 
there  burst  into  it  an  influx  of  half- Christianized  converts  who  low¬ 
ered  its  moral  level  or  misunderstood  its  doctrines ;  then  with  the 
break-up  of  the  Roman  Empire,  it  had  to  tame  and  civilize  the 
new  races  of  Europe  ;  and  finally,  the  divisions  of  the  Reformation 
have  weakened  its  witness  in  the  world.  But,  more  important  still, 
the  very  greatness  of  the  ideal  has  caused  the  difficulty  of  its  real¬ 
ization,  and  has  exposed  itself  to  caricature  and  to  one-sidedness. 
The  richer,  the  more  many-sided,  the  more  complete  an  ideal  is, 
the  less  possible  is  it  for  any  one  generation  to  express  it  completely, 
the  more  likely  is  it  that  one  side  of  truth  will  be  pressed  to  the 
exclusion  of  some,  if  not  of  all  the  rest. 

This  may  be  tested  in  each  of  the  points  which  we  have  consid¬ 
ered.  The  Church  is  an  organization  for  spiritual  life,  for  holiness. 

1  The  Dean  of  St.  Paul’s,  Advent  Sermons,  p.  73. 


ix.  The  Church. 


nor 

oo 1 

It  makes  the  bold  claim  to  be  the  society  of  saints ;  but  at  once 
there  arises  the  conflict  between  the  ideal  and  the  actual  state  of 
men.  Press  the  ideal,  and  you  will  narrow  the  Church  to  those 
who  are  externally  leading  good  lives  or  who  are  conscious  of  con¬ 
version  to  Christ.  This  was  the  line  taken  by  the  Novatians,  by 
the  Donatists,  by  the  Puritans,  by  the  Baptists,  and  the  Church  was 
thereby  narrowed.  On  the  other  hand,  dwell  only  on  the  actual 
state,  the  weakness,  the  failures  of  human  nature,  and  you  acquiesce 
in  a  low  level  of  morality.  The  Church  aims  at  being  true  to  both  ; 
it  will  not  exclude  any  from  its  embrace  who  are  willing  to  submit 
to  its  laws ;  it  takes  children  and  trains  them  ;  it  takes  the  imper¬ 
fect  and  disciplines  them  ;  it  rejects  none,  save  such  as  rejoice  in 
their  iniquity  and  deliberately  refuse  to  submit  to  discipline. 

But  again,  this  suggests  another  class  of  difficulties,  all  those 
which  are  associated  with  the  relation  of  the  individual  to  the  soci¬ 
ety,  difficulties  which  are  parallel  to  the  difficulties  in  politics,  which 
are  not  yet  solved  there,  and  which  are  always  needing  readjust¬ 
ment.  Here  again  it  is  possible  to  overpress  either  side ;  the 
claims  of  the  society  may  be  urged  to  the  detriment  of  the  individ¬ 
ual,  the  central  organization  may  crush  out  national  life  and  give 
no  scope  for  individual  development,  and  so  there  arises  the  impe¬ 
rial  absolutism  of  the  mediaeval  Church.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is 
equally  possible  to  exaggerate  the  claims  of  individualism,  of  inde¬ 
pendence,  of  freedom,  and  the  result  is  division  and  disaster  to  the 
whole  society  ;  the  individual  is  only  anxious  to  save  his  own  soul, 
and  religion  is  claimed  to  be  only  a  thing  between  a  man  and  his 
God  ;  common  Church  life  becomes  impossible,  and  the  witness  of 
the  Church  to  the  world,  and  thereby  its  power  for  missionary 
work,  becomes  weakened.  As  before,  the  Church  ideal  strives  to 
combine  both  sides  of  the  truth.  It  values,  it  insists  on,  the  rights 
of  each  individual  soul ;  its  mission  is  to  convey  the  Spirit  to  it,  that 
is  to  say,  to  waken  it  up  to  a  consciousness  of  its  own  individual 
relation  to  God,  its  own  personal  responsibility  in  God’s  sight  ;  it 
does  bid  each  individual  save  his  own  soul.  But  it  keeps  also 
before  him  the  claims  of  the  society ;  it  says  to  him  that  in  saving 
his  soul  he  must  lose  it  in  service  for  others  ;  when  his  soul  is 
saved,  it  must  be  used  for  active  service  with  others  in  joint  work. 
It  does  say  that  the  society  is  more  important  for  the  world  than 
any  one  individual  member  of  it,  and  that  each  individual  gets  real 
strength  when  he  speaks  and  acts  not  for  himself  but  as  represent¬ 
ing  the  society  behind  him.  It  is  possible  to  think  of  the  Church 
as  an  organization  existing  for  the  spiritual  good  of  the  individual  ; 
but  it  is  possible  also,  and  it  is  a  deeper  view,  to  think  of  the  indi- 


332 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


vidual  as  existing  for  the  good  of  the  Church,  like  a  singer  training 
himself  not  to  display  his  own  voice,  but  to  strengthen  the  general 
effect  of  the  whole  choir.  That  is  the  ideal  of  the  Church,  a  body 
which  quickens  the  individual  into  full  conscious  life,  that  the  indi¬ 
vidual  may  devote  his  life  to  the  service  of  the  whole.  Its  life  is 
like  that  of  a  great  moving  flight  of  birds,  each  with  its  own  life,  yet 
swaying  and  rising  and  turning  as  by  a  common  impulse,  — 

‘  Their  jubilant  activity  evolves 
Hundreds  of  curves  and  circlets,  to  and  fro. 

Upwards  and  downwards;  progress  intricate 
Yet  unperplexed,  as  if  one  spirit  swayed 
Their  indefatigable  flight.’1 

The  Church,  again,  is  the  teacher  of  truth ;  but  in  the  acquisi¬ 
tion  of  truth  there  are  always  two  elements.  There  are  the  fixed 
facts  of  life,  with  which  theory  deals,  and  the  accumulation  of  past 
thought  upon  the  facts  ;  there  is  also  the  creative  spirit  which  plays 
upon  these,  which  re-adapts,  combines,  discovers.  The  teacher  of 
any  science  has  to  convey  to  his  pupil  the  accumulated  theories  of 
the  past  and  to  quicken  in  him  fresh  power  of  thinking ;  he  speaks 
first  with  authority,  though  of  course  with  assurance  that  his  authority 
is  rational,  and  that  the  pupil  will  understand  it  ultimately.  The 
teacher  of  morality,  the  parent,  teaches  even  more  strongly  with 
authority,  though  he  too  trusts  that  the  child  will  ultimately  accept 
the  law  on  rational  grounds.  The  pupil  needs  at  once  a  receptive 
and  a  critical  faculty.  The  absence  or  exaggeration  of  either  is 
equally  fatal.  Here  again  the  Church  ideal  tries  to  combine  both 
sides  and  to  insist  upon  the  real  unity  of  all  truth,  and  this  makes 
its  task  so  difficult.  At  times  the  whole  stress  has  been  laid  on  the 
permanent  elements  in  the  faith,  and  the  result  has  been,  as  often 
in  the  Oriental  Church,  a  tendency  to  intellectual  stagnation  :  at 
other  times  the  present  speaking  voice  of  the  Church  has  been 
emphasized,  and  any  theory  has  been  hastily  adopted  as  absolutely 
true,  without  due  consideration  of  its  relation  to  other  truths.  At 
times  authority  has  been  over-emphasized,  and  the  acceptance  of 
dogma  has  seemed  to  be  made  the  equivalent  of  a  living  trust  in  a 
personal  God  ;  at  others  the  duty  of  individual  search  after  truth, 
of  individual  conviction,  has  been  pressed  ;  the  traditions  of  the 
past  have  been  ignored ;  nothing  has  been  of  value  except  that 
which  has  commended  itself  to  the  individual  reason,  and  the  result 
.  has  been  confusion,  uncertainty,  the  denial  of  the  greatness  and  the 
mystery  and  the  width  of  truth,  and  too  often  a  moral  and  spiritual 


1  Wordsworth,  The  Recluse. 


ix.  The  Church. 


333 


paralysis.  Meanwhile  the  Church  has  tried  to  hold  to  both  sides  : 
it  has  insisted  on  the  ultimate  unity  of  all  knowledge  ;  starting  from 
the  axiom  that  One  is  our  teacher,  even  Christ,  and  believing  that 
all  truth  comes  from  His  inspiration  as  the  Word  of  God,  it  has 
refused  to  acquiesce  in  intellectual  contradiction  ;  it  has  ever  held, 
with  King  Lear,  Ghat  “ay”  and  “no”  too  is  no  good  divinity.’ 
The  truths  of  philosophy  and  religion  must  be  one  ;  the  truths 
of  science  and  religion  must  be  one.1  In  the  desire  to  see  this 
the  Church  has  been  hasty,  it  has  rejected  scientific  truth  be¬ 
cause  it  did  not  fall  in  with  its  interpretation  of  the  Bible.  It 
has  made  its  mistakes,  but  it  has  done  so  out  of  a  noble  princi¬ 
ple.  It  would  be  easy  to  gain  consistency  by  sacrificing  either 
side  ;  it  is  hard  to  combine  the  two  :  and  this  is  what  the  Church 
has  tried  to  do  ;  it  has  upheld  the  belief  of  the  ultimate  synthesis 
of  all  knowledge.  In  exactly  the  same  way,  the  sects  have  often 
gained  force,  popularity,  effectiveness  for  the'  moment  by  the  em¬ 
phasis  laid  on  some  one  truth  ;  the  Church  has  gained  strength, 
solidity,  permanence,  by  its  witness  to  the  whole  body  of  truth. 

The  same  tendency  may  be  shortly  illustrated  with  regard  to  the 
function  of  worship.  That  too  is  a  complex  act ;  in  that  there 
should  be  the  free  conscious  act  ot  the  individual,  worshipping  in 
spirit  and  in  truth  a  God  whom  he  knows  as  a  personal  God  ;  but 
clearly  this  is  not  all ;  the  whole  society  must  express  its  corporate 
life  in  corporate  worship.  Its  influence  is  something  over  and 
above  the  influence  of  its  individual  members,  and  that  influence 
must  be  exercised  on  the  side  of  God  ;  it  must  be  recognized  as 
coming  from  God  ;  it  must  be  solemnly  consecrated  to  God’s  ser¬ 
vice.  The  society  has  a  right  then  to  call  upon  its  individual 
members  to  join  in  this  corporate  action.  On  the  one  hand  lies 
the  danger  of  the  overpressure  of  the  society,  where  the  service  of 
the  individual  is  unwilling  or  apathetic  :  on  the  other  hand  the 
danger  of  individualism  and  sectarianism,  in  which  the  whole  con¬ 
ception  of  public  worship  is  lowered  and  the  individual  is  never 
trained  in  religious  matters  to  feel  the  kindling  power  of  a  common 
enthusiasm,  to  be  lifted  above  himself  in  the  wave  of  a  common 
joy.  The  Church  has  aimed  at  combining  both  ;  by  the  insistence 
on  confession  and  absolution  it  has  tried  to  train  the  individual  to 
a  sense  of  personal  penitence  and  personal  gratitude  :  but  these 
have  only  prepared  him  to  share  in  the  common  worship  of  the 
society. 

1  Cp.  Socrates,  iii.  16:  T&  y ap  KaAbv,  (iv6a  tcv  ff,  'iSiov  tt/s  ccAtjOzlczs  icrlu.  St. 
Aug.,  de  doctr.  Ch  ,  ii.  18  :  ‘  Quisquis  bonus  verusque  Christianus  est,  Do¬ 
mini  sui  esse  intellegat  ubique  invenerit  veritatem.’ 


334 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


But  the  Church  has  had  to  do  even  more  than  this.  Not  only 
has  it  aimed  at  keeping  in  due  proportion  the  conflicting  elements 
in  life,  in  truth,  and  in  worship  ;  it  has  also  had  to  keep  alive 
the  three  sides  at  once,  and  to  keep  them  in  their  true  relation 
to  each  other.  To  be  at  one  and  the  same  time  the  home  of  life 
and  truth  and  worship,  this  belongs  to  its  ideal,  and  this  adds 
new  difficulties.  Sometimes  one  element  has  preponderated, 
sometimes  another :  but  its  aim  is  always  to  preserve  the  three. 
It  has  historically  preserved  the  synthesis  of  the  three  more  than 
any  other  Christian  body.  It  has  moved  through  the  ages  doing 
its  work,  however  imperfectly.  It  has  kept  historic  continuity  with 
the  past :  it  has  disciplined  life  and  raised  the  standard  of  morality 
and  united  the  nations  of  the  world.  It  has  been  a  witness  to  a 
spiritual  world,  to  the  fact  that  men  have  interests  above  material 
things,  and  that  these  deeper  spiritual  interests  can  combine  them 
with  the  strongest  links.  It  has  gone  out  as  a  Catholic  Church, 
knowing  that  it  contains  in  its  message  truths  that  can  win  their 
way  to  every  nation ;  and  therefore  it  has  never  ceased  to  be  a 
Missionary  Church,  as  it  needs  that  each  nation  should  draw  out 
into  prominence  some  aspect  of  its  truth,  and  reveal  in  life  some 
side  of  its  virtue.  It  has  enshrined,  protected,  witnessed  to  the 
truth  ;  both  as  an  ‘  authoritative  republication  of  natural  religion/ 
keeping  alive  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  of  His  moral  government 
of  the  world,1  and  as  a  revelation  of  redemption.  It  has  drawn  up 
the  canon  of  Holy  Scripture  and  formulated  its  Creeds :  it  still 
witnesses  to  the  unity  of  knowledge  :  it  has  held  up  before  the 
world  an  ideal  of  worship,  at  once  social  and  individual.  Its  truths 
have  indeed  spread  beyond  itself,  so  that  men  find  them  now  in 
bodies  opposed  to  it ;  and  therefore  are  perplexed  and  do  not 
know  where  their  allegiance  is  really  due.  It  has  indeed  been  it¬ 
self  often  untrue  to  its  mission  ;  but  ever  and  again  it  has  reas¬ 
serted  itself  with  a  strange  recuperative  power,  for,  as  the  fountain 
of  its  life,  there  is  ever  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  sent  by  the 
risen  Lord  ;  to  check  temporary  failures  or  accretions  of  teachings, 
there  has  been  the  perpetual  re-appeal  to  Holy  Scripture  and  the 
Creeds  ;  to  control  idiosyncrasies  of  worship,  there  has  been  the 
permanent  element  of  its  Liturgies.  Its  very  failures  have  come 
from  its  inherent  greatness  ;  they  are  the  proof  of  great  capacities, 
the  omen  of  a  greater  future.  Like  St.  Paul,  it  holds  on  its  way 
‘  by  glory  and  dishonor,  by  evil  report  and  good  report,  as  deceiv¬ 
ing,  and  yet  true,  as  unknown,  and  yet  well  known ;  as  dying,  and 


1  Butler’s  Analogy,  pt.  ii.  ch.  I. 


ix.  The  Church. 


335 


behold  it  lives ;  as  chastened,  and  not  killed  ;  as  sorrowful,  yet 
always  rejoicing ;  as  poor,  and  yet  making  many  rich ;  as  having 
nothing,  and  yet  possessing  all  things.’ 

Does  the  world  need  the  witness  of  the  Church’s  life  less  now 
than  in  past  ages?  Less?  Nay,  for  many  reasons  more.  The 
widening  opportunities  of  intercourse  are  opening  up  new  nations, 
whose  existence  had  only  been  suspected  before  ;  they  are'  bring¬ 
ing  the  various  parts  of  human  kind  into  a  closer  touch  with  each 
other.  The  problems  of  civilization  are  more  complex ;  and  the 
more  complicated  a  piece  of  machinery  is,  the  more  difficult  it  is 
to  keep  it  in  order ;  so  small  a  defect  may  throw  the  whole  out  of 
gear.  The  wider  our  knowledge  of  humanity,  the  greater  need 
of  a  Catholic  Church,  which  shall  raise  its  voice  above  the  din  of 
conquest  and  the  bustle  of  commerce,  and  insist  that  all  races  shall 
be  treated  with  justice  and  tenderness,  as  made  of  one  blood ; 
which  shall  welcome  all  men  freely  into  its  own  brotherhood,  and 
conveying  to  them  the  gifts  of  the  Spirit,  shall  help  them  to  show 
forth  in  their  lives  fresh  beauties  of  the  richly  variegated  wisdom  of 
God.  The  growth  of  our  huge  towns,  ‘  where  numbers  overwhelm 
humanity,’  and  the  accumulation  of  wealth  bring  the  danger  nearer 
home  :  amidst  social  upheavings  and  the  striving  of  class  with 
class,  there  is  need  of  a  Church  to  rise  above  rich  and  poor  alike, 
which  shall  embrace  both  ;  which  shall  teach  both  a  real  visible 
brotherhood  amid  all  external  inequalities ;  which  shall  teach  the 
poor  the  dignity  of  labor  wrought  for  the  good  of  the  whole  society, 
and  teach  the  rich  the  duty  and  the  blessing  of  the  consecration  of 
their  wealth.  With  the  wider  use  of  machinery  and  the  restless 
rush  of  money-getting,  it  is  important  that  there  should  be  the 
appeal  of  the  Church  that  no  man  or  woman  shall  be  degraded 
into  being  a  mere  machine  ;  because  each  is  a  living  soul,  capable 
of  personal  responsibility,  capable  of  a  pure  life,  capable  of  a  knowl¬ 
edge  of  God. 

Amid  the  increasing  specialization  of  studies,  amid  all  the  new 
discoveries  of  science  and  historical  criticism,  with  all  the  perplexi¬ 
ties  that  arise  as  to  the  interpretation  and  inspiration  of  the  Bible, 
now,  if  ever,  there  is  need  of  a  Church,  which,  conscious  of  its  own 
spiritual  life,  knowing  that  its  spiritual  truths  have  stood  the  test  of 
centuries,  has  patience  and  courage  to  face  all  these  new  facts  and 
see  their  bearing  and  take  their  measure  ;  which  all  the  while  shall 
go  on  teaching  to  its  children  with  an  absolute  but  rational  author¬ 
ity  the  central  facts  of  the  spiritual  life,  and  shall  never  doubt  the 
ultimate  unity  of  all  truth. 

Amid  the  uncertainties  of  individualism,  the  fantastic  services  of 


336 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


those  who  tend  to  reduce  worship  to  a  mere  matter  of  emotion, 
amid  the  sorrows  and  perplexities  of  modern  life,  the  world  needs 
the  witness  of  a  rational  and  corporate  worship,  which  recognizes 
the  deepest  sufferings  of  human  nature  enshrined  in  its  very  heart, 
yet  recognizes  also  the  way  in  which  suffering  when  accepted 
freely  is  blessed  of  God ;  which  worships  at  once  a  crucified  and 
a  riseif  Lord.  Over  against  the  divisions  of  race  and  continent 
the  Church  raises  still  its  witness  to  the  possibility  of  a  universal 
brotherhood  ;  over  against  despair  and  dispersion  it  speaks  of  faith 
and  the  unity  of  knowledge ;  over  against  pessimism  it  lifts  up  a 
perpetual  Lucharist. 


X. 

SACRAMENTS. 


FRANCIS  PAGET. 


22 


X. 


SACRAMENTS . 


It  is  the  characteristic  distinction  of  some  men’s  work  that  they 
are  resolute  to  take  into  just  account  all  the  elements  and  con¬ 
ditions  of  the  matter  with  which  they  deal.  They  will  not  pur¬ 
chase  simplicity  at  the  expense  of  facts  ;  they  will  not,  by  any  act 
of  arbitrary  exclusion  or  unreal  abstraction,  give  up  even  the  most 
distant  hope  of  some  real  attainment  for  the  sake  of  securing  a 
present  appearance  of  completeness.  They  recognize  and  insist 
upon  all  the  complexity  of  that  at  which  they  look ;  they  may  see 
many  traits  in  it  to  which  they  can  assign  no  definite  place  or 
meaning,  but  they  will  not  ignore  or  disparage  these ;  they  will 
not  forget  them,  even  though  for  a  while  they  may  have  to  defer 
the  closer  study  of  them  ;  they  will  dutifully  bear  them  in  mind, 
and  carry  them  along  through  all  their  work ;  they  will  let  them 
tell  with  full  weight  in  qualifying,  deferring,  or  precluding  the 
formation  of  any  theory  about  that  of  which  these  traits,  trivial  or 
important,  explained  or  unexplained,  are  a  genuine  part.  It  is 
difficult  to  find  a  name  for  this  rare  and  distinctive  excellence. 
But  it  is  that  which  more  than  any  other  quality  gives  per¬ 
manence  and  fruitfulness  to  work  :  for  even  the  fragmentary 
and  loosely  ordered  outcome  of  such  thought  is  wont  to  prove 
germinant  and  quickening  as  time  goes  on.  Patience,  honesty, 
reverence,  and  unselfishness,  are  virtues  which  appear  conge¬ 
nial  with  such  a  character  of  mind ;  and  the  high,  undaunted 
faith  which  is  the  secret  of  its  strength  and  the  assurance  of 
its  great  reward  has  been  told  by  Mr.  Browning  in  ‘  A  Gramma¬ 
rian’s  Funeral :  ’  — 


340 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


‘  Was  it  not  great  ?  did  not  he  throw  on  God 
(He  loves  the  burthen)  — 

God’s  task  to  make  the  heavenly  period 
Perfect  the  earthen  ?  ’ 1 

It  will  be  the  chief  aim  of  this  essay  to  showT  that  in  the  embodi¬ 
ment  and  presentation  of  Christianity  by  the  Church  of  Christ 
there  may  be  seen  an  excellence  analogous,  at  least,  to  this  dis¬ 
tinctive  characteristic  of  the  work  that  all  approve  as  best  and 
truest  upon  earth ;  that  in  contrast  with  many  religious  systems, 
attaining  a  high  degree  of  moral  beauty  and  spiriiual  fervor,  the 
historic  Church  meets  human  life  in  full  front ;  that  it  has  been 
taught  and  enabled,  in  its  ministry  of  Sacraments,  to  deal  with  the 
entirety  of  man  s  nature,  not  slighting,  or  excluding,  or  despairing 
of  any  true  part  of  his  being.  But  it  is  necessary  at  the  outset  to 
define,  in  general  and  provisional  terms,  the  nature  and  the  prin¬ 
ciple  of  that  element  in  the  Church’s  faith  and  life  which  is  here 
under  consideration,  and  in  which  especially  this  amplitude  and 
catholicity  of  dealing  with  human  nature  is  to  be  sought.  By  the 
Sacramental  system,  then,  is  meant  the  regular  use  of  sensible 
objects,  agents,  and  acts  as  being  the  means  or  instruments  of 
Divine  energies,  ‘  the  vehicles  of  saving  and  sanctifying  power.’  2 
The  underlying  belief,  the  basal  and  characteristic  principle  of  this 
system,  may  be  thus  stated.  As  the  inmost  being  of  man  rises  to 
the  realization  of  its  true  life,  to  the  knowledge  and  apprehension 
of  God  and  of  itself,  in  the  act  of  faith,  and  as  He  whose  Spirit 
quickened  it  for  that  act,  greets  its  venture  with  fresh  gifts  of  light 
and  strength,  it  is  His  will  that  these  gifts  should  be  conveyed  by 
means  or  organs  taken  from  this  world,  and  addressed  to  human 
senses.,  His  Holy  Spirit  bears  into  the  faithful  soul  the  communi- 

1  In  ‘  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra  ’  the  true  measure  of  such  work’s  beneficence  is 
shown  :  — 

‘  Not  on  the  vulgar  mass 
Called  “  work,”  must  sentence  pass, 

Things  done,  that  took  the  eve  and  had  the  price  ; 

O’er  which,  from  level  stand, 

The  low  world  laid  its  hand, 

Found  straightway  to  its  mind,  could  value  in  a  trice : 

‘But  all  the  world’s  coarse  thumb 
And  finger  failed  to  plumb, 

So  passed  in  making  up  the  main  account ; 

All  instincts  immature, 

All  purposes  unsure. 

That  weighed  not  as  his  work,  yet  swelled  the  man’s  amount/ 

2  Cf.  A.  Knox,  Remains,  ii.  138. 


x.  Sacraments. 


341 


cation  of  its  risen  Lord’s  renewing  manhood  ;  and  for  the  convey¬ 
ance  of  that  unseen  gift  He  takes  things  and  acts  that  can  be  seen, 
and  words  that  can  be  heard ;  His  way  is  viewless  as  the  wind ; 
but  He  comes  and  works  by  means  of  which  the  senses  are  aware  ; 
and  His  hidden  energy  accepts  a  visible  order  and  outward  imple¬ 
ments  for  the  achievement  of  its  purpose. 

t  he  limits  of  this  essay  preclude  the  discussion  of  the  larger 
questions  which  beset  the  terms  of  these  definitions.  Previous 
essays  have  dealt  with  those  truths  which  are  necessarily  involved 
in  any  declaration  of  belief  about  the  Christian  Sacraments.  The 
Being  of  God,  the  Incarnation  of  the  Eternal  Word,  the  Atone¬ 
ment,  the  Resurrection  and  Ascension  of  Christ,  the  Person  and 
Mission  ot  the  Holy  Ghost,  these  are  indeed  implied  in  the 
Sacramental  system  of  the  Church,  not  simply  as  component  and 
essential  parts  of  the  same  building,  nor  as  mere  logical  data,  but 
rather  as  the  activities  of  the  bodily  life  are  presupposed  in  the 
exertion  of  the  body’s  strength.  But  these  cannot  here  be  spoken 
of ;  it  is  from  preceding  pages  of  this  book  that  thoughts  and  con¬ 
victions  must  be  gathered,  without  which  much  that  is  here  said 
will  seem  either  unsubstantial,  or  merely  technical.  It  must  be 
owned  that  the  severance  of  any  subject  from  its  context  entails 
not  only  incompleteness,  but  also  a  certain  disproportion  and 
obscurity  in  its  treatment;  since  the  lires  of  thought  which  run 
out  into  the  context  are  lines  down  which  light  comes,  light  that  is 
lost  if  they  are  closed.  Indeed  anything  like  a  full  presentation 
or  a  formal  defence  of  a  detached  part  of  Christian  teaching  and 
practice  seems  intrinsically  very  difficult,  and  within  the  limits  of 
an  essay  impossible.  There  are,  however,  two  questions  which 
must  be  asked  concerning  each  several  part  of  the  whole  structure, 
and  in  regard  to  which  something  may  here  be  said.  The  first  is  : 
Does  this  part  match  with  its  surroundings  in  Christianity  ;  is  it  a 
harmonious  and  congenial  element  in  the  whole  order,  in  the  great 
body  of  doctrine  to  which  it  claims  to  belong?  1  he  second  is: 
Does  it  match  with  the  surroundings  on  which  it  claims  to  act,  with 
its  environment  in  human  life  ;  is  it  apt  for  the  purpose  to  which 
it  is  addressed  and  the  conditions  among  which  it  comes?  It  is 
here  proposed,  as  has  been  said,  to  consider  in  regard  to  the  Sacra¬ 
mental  system  the  second  especially  of  these  two  questions  ;  but  its 
consideration  will  involve  some  thoughts  which  may  perhaps  be  a 
sufficient  answer  to  the  first.  And  thus  something  may  also  be 
gained  beyond  the  range  of  the  present  inquiry  ;  for  it  seems  fair 
to  hold  that  any  part  of  Christian  teaching  in  regard  to  which  both 
these  questions  can  be  answered  in  the  affirmative,  has  a  strong 


342 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


tendency  at  all  events  to  commend  the  claim  of  the  whole  scheme 
with  which  it  is  inwoven  and  essentially  continuous.  For  the  per¬ 
fection  of  inner  coherence  in  a  structure  whose  main  lines,  at  least, 
were  projected  in  the  world  under  circumstances  which  preclude 
the  thought  of  scientific  or  artificial  elaboration,  and  the  perfection 
of  adaptation,  not  to  the  wishes  and  tastes  of  men,  nor  to  the 
arrangements  of  society,  but  to  the  deepest,  fullest,  surest  truth  of 
humanity ;  these  are  characteristics  which  we  should  expect  to 
find  in  a  revelation  from  God  to  man,  and  be  surprised  to  find 
elsewhere. 

I.  Probably  there  come  to  most  men  who  have  got  beyond  the 
happy  confidence  of  youth,  and  the  unhappy  confidence  of  self- 
satisfaction,  times  at  which  they  seem  to  themselves  to  be  living  in 
a  somewhat  perplexed  and  dimly  lighted  world,  with  tasks  for  which 
their  strength  is  insufficient,  among  problems  which  they  cannot 
solve.  And  Christianity  is  held  out  to  them,  or  has  been  received 
by  them,  as  a  way  of  life  under  these  circumstances,  as  a  method 
and  a  means  of  living  rightly ;  a  system  which  does  not  indeed 
take  all  the  perplexity  out  of  the  world,  or  all  the  difficulties  out 
of  their  course,  but  which  will  give  them  light  and  strength  enough 
to  keep  in  the  right  track,  to  use  their  time  well,  to  take  their 
proper  place,  and  do  their  proper  work,  and  so  to  move  towards 
the  realization  of  all  the  many  parts  and  possibilities  of  their  nature  ; 
a  goal  which  may  seem  to  grow  both  larger  and  more  distant  the 
more  one  thinks  about  it.  Christianity  professes  to  be  that  Divine 
word,  which  was  faintly  surmised  of  old,1  and  in  due  time  was  sent 
forth  to  bear  men  wisely  and  surely  through  this  world.  Plainly 
one  of  the  first  and  fairest  questions  which  may  be  asked  in  regard 
to  it  is,  whether  it  shows  a  perfect  understanding  of  the  nature 
with  which  it  claims  to  deal,  and  the  life  which  it  claims  to  guide. 

Now  when  we  set  ourselves  to  think  what  we  are  for  whom  a 
possible  and  satisfactory  way  of  life  is  sought,  what  that  nature  is, 
whose  right  principles  and  conditions  of  development  are  to  be 
determined,  one  of  the  first  things  which  we  discern  is  an  appar¬ 
ently  invincible  complexity.  The  life  we  have  to  order  is  a  two¬ 
fold  life,  it  moves  through  a  twofold  course  of  experience ;  the 
facts,  the  activities  in  which  we  are  conscious  of  it,  are  of  two 
kinds ;  and  men  ordinarily  distinguish  them  as  bodily  and  spiritual. 
Some  such  distinction  is  recognized  and  understood  by  the 
simplest  of  us ;  it  is  embedded  beyond  possibility  of  expulsion  in 
all  language ;  stubbornly  and  successfully  it  resists  all  efforts  to 


1  Cf.  Plato,  Phaffio,  85,  C,  D. 


x.  Sacraments. 


343 


abolish  it.  We  know  for  ourselves  that  either  of  the  two  groups 
of  facts  may  stand  out  in  clearer  light,  in  keener  consciousness,  at 
certain  times  ;  we  may  even  for  a  while,  a  little  while,  lose  sight 
of  either  of  them  and  seem  to  be  wholly  occupied  with  the  other  : 
but  presently  the  neglected  facts  will  re-assert  their  rights ;  neither 
the  one  group  nor  the  other  may  long  be  set  aside  without 
risk  of  the  Nemesis  which  avenges  slighted  truths, —the  Neme¬ 
sis  of  disproportion  and  disease.  WTe  may  confuse  our  sense  of 
the  distinction ;  we  may  shift  or  blur  or  bend  whatever  line 
had  seemed  to  mark  it;  we  may  insist  on  the  qualifying  phe¬ 
nomena  which  forbid  us  to  think  of  any  barrier  as  impenetrable ; 
but  we  cannot  so  exalt  or  push  forward  either  realm  as  utterly 
to  extrude,  absorb,  or  annihilate  the  other ;  we  cannot,  with  con¬ 
sistency  or  sanity,  live  as  though  our  life  were  merely  spiritual 
or  merely  bodily.  It  is  as  impossible  steadily  to  regard  the  spirit 
as  a  mere  function  or  product  of  the  body  as  it  is  to  treat  the 
body  with  entire  indifference,  as  a  casually  adjacent  fragment  of 
the  external  world.  But  further,  as  the  distinction  of  the  two 
elements  in  our  being  seems  insuperable,  so  does  their  union  seem 
essential  to  the  integrity  of  our  life.  i\.ny  abstraction  of  one 
element,  as  though  it  could  detach  itself  from  the  other  and  live 
on  its  own  resources,  is  felt  to  be  unreal  and  destructive  of  our 
proper  nature.  So  it  has  been  finely  said,  ‘  Materialism  itself  has 
here  done  valuable  service  in  correcting  the  exaggeration  of  a  one¬ 
sided  spiritualism.  It  is  common,  but  erroneous  to  speak  of  man’s 
body  as  being  related  to  his  spirit  only  as  is  the  casket  to  the  jewel 
which  it  contains.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  personal  spirit  of 
man  strikes  its  roots  tar  and  deep  into  the  encompassing  frame  of 
sense,  with  which  from  the  first  moment  of  its  existence,  it  has 
been  so  intimately  associated.  .  .  .  The  spirit  can  indeed  exist 
independently  of  the  body,  but  this  independent  existence  is  not 
its  emancipation  from  a  prison-house  of  matter  and  sense ;  it  is 
a  temporary  and  abnormal  divorce  from  the  companion  whose 
presence  is  needed  to  complete  its  life.’ 1  If  we  try  to  imagine 
our  life  in  abstraction  from  the  body  we  can  only  think  of  it  as 
incomplete  and  isolated  ;  as  impoverished,  deficient,  and  expectant. 
And  certainly  in  our  present  state,  in  the  interval  between  what  we 
call  birth  and  death,  the  severance  of  the  two  elements  is  incon¬ 
ceivable  ;  they  are  knit  together  in  incessant  and  indissoluble  com- 

1  H.  P.  Liddon,  Some  Elements  of  Religion,  pp.  116,  117.  Cf  the  won¬ 
derful  venture  towards  a  conception  of  the  disembodied  soul  and  of  its 
manner  of  life,  in  the  Dream  of  Gerontius;  and  also  in  Battle  and  After, 
by  R.  St.  John  Tyrwhitt,  p.  7. 


344 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


munion.  In  no  activity,  no  experience  of  either,  can  the  other 
be  utterly  discarded  ;  ‘  for  each  action  and  reaction  passing  between 
them  is  a  fibre  of  that  which  forms  their  mutual  bond.’ 1  Even 
into  those  energies  of  which  men  speak  as  purely  spiritual,  the 
bodily  life  will  find  its  way,  will  send  its  help  or  hindrance ;  sick¬ 
ness,  hunger,  weariness,  and  desire  :  these  are  but  some  of  its  mes¬ 
sengers  to  the  spirit,  messengers  who  will  not  always  be  denied. 
And  in  every  conscious  action  of  the  bodily  life  the  presence  of 
the  spirit  is  to  be  discerned.  The  merely  animal  fulfilment  of 
merely  animal  demands,  devoid  of  moral  quality,  is  only  possible 
within  that  dark  tract  of  instinct  which  lies  below  the  range  of  our 
consciousness.  When  once  desire  is  consciously  directed  to  its 
object  (wherever  the  desire  has  originated  and  whatever  be  the 
nature  of  the  object),  a  moral  quality  appears,  a  moral  issue  is 
determined ;  and  the  act  of  the  body  becomes  an  event  in  the  life 
of  the  spirit.2  The  blind  life  of  brute  creatures  is  as  far  out  of  our 
reach  as  is  the  pure  energy  of  angels ;  we  can  never  let  the  body 
simply  go  its  own  way ;  for  in  the  essential  complexity  of  our 
being,  another  sense  is  ever  waiting  upon  the  conscious  exercise 
of  those  five  senses  that  we  share  with  lower  animals,  —  the  sense 
of  duty  and  of  sin. 

Thus  complex  are  we, —  we  who  crave  more  light  and  strength, 
who  want  to  find  the  conditions  of  our  health  and  growth,  who  lift 
up  our  eyes  unto  the  hills  from  whence  cometh  our  help.  It  would 
be  interesting  to  consider  from  how  many  different  points  of  view 
the  complexity  has  been  recognized,  resented,  slandered,  or  ignored  ; 
and  how  steadily  it  has  held  its  own.  It  may  need  some  exercise 
of  faith  (that  is  to  say,  of  reasonable  patience  amidst  half-lights 
and  fragments)  to  keep  the  truth  before  one,  and  to  allow  it  its  just 
bearing  upon  thought  and  conduct,  without  exaggeration,  or  self- 
deception,  or  one-sidedness  ;  but  there  is  neither  health  of  body 
nor  peace  of  mind  in  trifling  with  it. 

To  us,  then,  being  thus  complex,  Christianity  presents  a  plan,  a 
principle,  a  rule  of  life.  And  that  primary  and  inevitable  question 
which  has  been  already  indicated  may  therefore  take  this  definite 
form  :  —  Does  the  scheme  proposed  to  us  acknowledge  this  our 
complexity?  does  it  provide  for  us  in  the  entirety  of  our  nature, 
with  all  that  we  feel  to  be  essential  to  our  completeness?  or  must  a 
part  of  our  being  be  huddled  out  of  sight  as  we  enter  the  precinct 
of  the  Church  ? 

II.  (i)  Certainly  the  whole  history  and  character  of  the  Chris- 

1  Lotze,  Microcosmus,  Bk.  III.  c.  i.  §  2. 

2  Cf.  T.  H.  Green,  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  Bk.  II.  ch.  li.  §§  125,  126. 


x.  Sacraments . 


345 


tian  Revelation  would  encourage  us  to  hope  that  its  bearing  upon 
life  would  be  as  broad  as  the  whole  of  human  nature  ;  and  that  no 
true  part  of  our  being  would  be  excluded  from  its  light,  refused  its 
welcome,  or  driven  from  its  feast.  When  we  consider  how  Chris¬ 
tianity  came  into  the  world,  it  would  seem  strange  and  disappoint¬ 
ing  if  its  hold  on  human  life  were  partial  and  not  inclusive  ;  if,  for 
instance,  the  body  found  no  place  prepared,  no  help  or  hope  pro¬ 
vided  for  it.  'This  was  excellently  said  by  Alexander  Knox  :  ‘  The 
gospel  commenced  in  an  accommodation  to  mans  animal  exigen¬ 
cies  which  was  as  admirable  as  it  was  gracious  ;  and  which  the 
hosts  of  heaven  contemplated  with  delight  and  wonder.  The 
Incarnation  of  the  co-eternal  Son,  through  which  St.  John  was  ena¬ 
bled  to  declare  what  he  and  his  fellow  Apostles  “  had  seen  with 
their  eyes,  what  they  had  looked  upon,  and  their  hands  had  han¬ 
dled,  of  the  Word  of  Life,”  was  in  the  first  instance,  so  to  consult 
human  nature  in  its  animal  and  sensitive  capacity,  as  to  give  the 
strongest  pledge  that  a  dispensation  thus  introduced  would,  in 
every  subordinate  provision,  manifest  the  same  spirit  and  operate 
on  the  same  principle.  For  could  it  be  thought  that  the  first  won¬ 
derful  accommodation  of  Godhead  to  the  sensitive  apprehensions 
of  man  should  be  wholly  temporary?  and  that  though  that  mystery 
of  godliness  was  ever  to  be  regarded  as  the  vital  source  of 
all  spiritual  benefits  and  blessings,  no  continuance  of  this  wise 
and  gracious  condescension  should  be  manifested  in  the  means, 
whereby  its  results  were  to  be  perpetuated,  and  made  effectual  ?  ’ 1 
It  would  be  possible  to  follow  this  mode  of  thought  to  a  remoter 
point,  and  to  mark  in  the  revealed  relation  of  the  Eternal  Word  to 
the  whole  creation  a  sure  ground  for  believing  that  whensoever,  in 
the  fulness  of  time,  God  should  be  pleased  to  bring  the  world, 
through  its  highest  type,  into  union  with  Himself,  the  access  to 
that  union  would  be  as  wide  as  the  fulness  of  the  nature  in  which 
He  made  man  at  the  beginning :  that  the  attractive  and  uplifting 
bands  of  love  would  hold  and  draw  to  Him  every  true  element  of 
that  nature.  But  it  is  enough  for  our  present  purpose  to  look 
steadily  at  the  Advent  and  the  Life  of  Christ :  to  see  how  carefully 
and  tenderly  every  fragment  of  the  form  He  takes  is  disentangled 
from  the  deforming  evil  which  He  could  not  take  :  how  perfect  are 
the  lineaments  of  the  humanity  He  wears,  how  freely  and  clearly 
all  that  is  characteristic  of  our  nature  is  displayed  in  His  most  holy 
life  ;  where  ‘  the  hiding  of  His  power,’  the  restraining  of  the  beams 

1  A.  Knox,  Remains,  ii.  228,  229.  The  writer  of  this  essay  desires  to 
acknowledge  with  gratitude  the  help  he  has  found  in  the  remarkable 
treatise  here  referred  to. 


34 6  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

of  Deity1  leaves  room  for  the  disclosure  in  Him  of  whatever 
weakness  and  limitation  properly  belongs  to  us.  Surely  it  would 
be  strange  if  the  grace  and  truth  which  came  among  us  thus, 
proved  partial  or  restricted  in  their  later  dealing  with  our  manhood  : 
if  any  tract  of  our  life  were  unvisited  by  their  light  and  blessing : 
if  anything  which  He  took  were  slighted  in  His  kingdom,  forgotten 
in  His  ministry,  precluded  from  His  worship.  The  Incarnation 
was  indeed  in  itself  a  great  earnest  of  the  recognition  which  would 
be  accorded  in  the  Christian  life  to  the  whole  of  our  complex 
nature.  But  there  are,  more  particularly,  two  points  in  the  coming 
and  work  of  our  Lord  which  seem  peculiarly  intended  to  foreshow 
some  abiding  elevation  of  the  material  and  visible  to  share  the 
honor  of  the  spiritual  element  in  our  life.  They  are  so  familiar  to 
us  that  it  may  not  be  easy  to  do  full  justice  to  their  significance. 

(2)  For  it  does  seem  deeply  significant  that  when  the  Word 
was  made  flesh  and  dwelt  among  us,  He  took  up  the  lines  of  a 
history  replete  with  forecasts  of  the  consecration  of  material 
things  :  He  met  the  truest  aspirations  of  a  people  trained  to  unhes¬ 
itating  exultation  in  a  visible  worship,  encouraged  by  manifold 
experience  to  look  for  the  blessings  of  Divine  goodness  through 
sensible  means,  accustomed  and  commanded  to  seek  for  God’s 
especial  presence  in  an  appointed  place  and  amidst  sights  on  which 
their  eves  would  rest  with  thankful  confidence.  That  Church  and 
nation  ‘  of  whom  as  concerning  the  flesh  Christ  came,’  must  have 
seemed  indeed  irrevocably  and  essentially  committed  to  the  prin¬ 
ciple  that  when  man  is  brought  near  to  God  it  is  with  the  entirety 
of  his  manhood  :  that  God  is  to  be  glorified  alike  in  the  body  and 
in  the  spirit:  and  that  His  mercy  really  is  over  all  His  works. 
Doubtless  barriers  were  to  be  broken  down,  when  the  time  of 
prophecy  and  training  passed  on  into  the  freedom  of  realization  : 
limitations  were  to  be  taken  away,  distinctions  abrogated  by  Him 
in  Whom  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  neither  bond  nor  free,  neither 
male  nor  female  :  but  religion  would  surely  have  grown  in  reality  nar¬ 
rower  and  not  wider,  if  the  body  had  been  dismissed  from  its  duty 
and  gladness  in  the  light  of  God’s  countenance,  if  the  spirit  alone  had 
been  bidden  to  draw  near,  to  worship,  to  taste  and  see  how  gracious 
the  Lord  is.  Through  all  the  amplitude  of  the  Christian  dispensation, 
there  would  have  been  a  sense  of  loss,  of  impoverishment,  of 
expectation  encouraged  and  unsatisfied,  had  this  been  so ;  for  in 
the  preparatory  system  of  Judaism,  whatever  had  been  lacking, 
still  the  whole  nature  of  man  had  felt  the  Hand  of  God  and  heard 


1  Cf.  Hooker,  V.  liv.  6. 


X.  Sacraments . 


347 


His  Voice.  It  would  have  seemed  strange  if  with  the  wider 
extension  of  God’s  light  to  all  the  world  there  had  been  a  narrow- 
ing  of  its  range  in  the  life  of  each  several  man.1 

(3  )  And  then,  again,  it  is  to  be  marked  that  our  Lord  Himself 
by  repeated  acts  sustained  and  emphasized  this  acceptance  of  the 
visible  as  the  organ  or  vehicle  of  the  Divine.  His  blessing  was 
given  by  the  visible  laying  on  of  hands,  and  His  miracles  were 
wrought  not  by  the  bare  silent  energy  of  His  Almighty  will,  not 
even  in  many  cases  by  the  mere  utterance  of  His  word,  but 
through  the  employment  of  acts  or  objects,  impressive  to  the  bod¬ 
ily  element  in  man,  and  declaring  the  consecration  of  the  material 
for  the  work  of  God.  Alike  in  the  blessings  bestowed  and  in  the 
manner  of  their  bestowal  men  must  have  felt  that  there  was  with 
Him  no  disparagement  of  the  body,  no  forgetfulness  of  its  need, 
no  lack  of  care  for  its  welfare,  its  honor,  or  its  hope.  Perhaps  it 
may  even  be  that  had  we  watched  the  scene  in  the  Galilean  town 
as  the  sun  was  setting,  and  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  they  that 
had  any  sick  with  divers  diseases  brought  them  unto  Him ;  as  He 
moved  about  among  those  wasted,  suffering  forms,  and  on  one 
after  another  laid  His  hands  and  healed  them  ;  it  may  even  be 
that  what  would  have  struck  us  first  of  all  would  have  been  the 
bringing  in  of  a  better  hope  for  the  bodily  life  of  man  and  the 
replenishing  of  a  familiar  act,  a  common  gesture,  with  a  grace  and 
power  that  it  had  but  vaguely  hinted  at  before. 

We  have,  then,  (1)  in  the  Incarnation  of  the  Son  of  Crod,  (2)  in 
the  essential  character  of  the  history  ordered  as  an  especial  prep¬ 
aration  for  His  coming,  and  (3)  in  certain  conspicuous  features  of 
His  ministry  on  earth,  a  strong  encouragement  to  expect  that  in 
the  life  thus  brought  into  the  world,  in  the  way  thus  opened  out, 
there  would  be  evinced  a  large-hearted  care  for  the  whole  nature 
of  men  ;  that  no  unreal  abstraction  would  be  demanded,  and  no 
part  of  humanity  be  disinherited  ;  that  in  the  choice  of  its  means, 
in  the  scope  of  its  beneficence,  and  in  the  delineation  of  its  aim, 
Christianity  would  deal  with  us  as  we  are,  and  prove  that  God  has 
not  made  us  thus  for  nought.  An  endeavor  will  be  made  to  show 
how  this  great  hope  is  greeted  in  the  Sacramental  system,  and  up¬ 
lifted  and  led  on  towards  the  end  of  all  true  hope.  But  it  seems 
necessary  first  to  adduce  the  grounds  for  saying  that  that  system 
has  been  from  the  beginning  an  integral  part  of  Christianity. 

III.  When  we  turn  to  look  at  the  presentation  of  the  Sacra¬ 
mental  principle  in  the  Gospels,  our  first  impression  may  be  that 


1  C£.  A.  Knox,  ii.  210. 


34S 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


the  place  it  holds  there  is  less  than  that  which  is  given  to  it  in  the 
teaching  and  practice  of  the  Church ;  that  it  is  by  a  dispropor¬ 
tionate  growth  that  the  doctrine  of  Sacraments  has  gained  so  much 
space  and  so  great  prominence  in  Catholic  theology.  But  the 
impression  certainly  ought  not  to  be  lasting.  For  it  is  due  to  our 
forgetfulness  of  the  conditions  under  which  Christianity  came  into 
the  world  ;  the  characteristics  and  habits  of  religious  thought  with 
which  it  had  to  deal.  We  can  draw  no  reasonable  inference  from 
the  brevity  or  length  with  which  a  truth  is  enunciated  in  the 
Gospels  until  we  have  inquired  what  were  the  previous  convictions 
of  those  to  whom  our  Lord  spoke ;  what  preparation  had  in  that 
particular  regard  been  made  for  His  teaching.  We  ought  to  look 
for  some  difference  in  the  manner  of  revelation  corresponding  to 
the  difference  of  need  when  a  wholly  new  principle  of  thought  has 
to  be  borne  into  unready  minds,  and  when  a  fresh  direction  has  to 
be  given  to  an  expectation  already  alert  and  confident,  a  new  light 
to  be  thrown  on  the  true  worth  and  meaning  of  an  existing  belief 
about  God’s  ways  towards  men.  Amplitude  and  iteration  would 
indeed  have  been  necessary  for  any  teaching  which  was  to  dislodge 
the  Sacramental  principle  out  of  the  minds  of  those  among  whom 
our  Lord  came,  —  to  preclude  them  from  seeking  the  mercy  of  God 
through  visible  means.  But  if  the  Divine  purpose  was  not  to 
destroy  but  to  fulfil ;  not  to  discredit  as  mere  misapprehensions 
the  convictions  men  had  received,  but  to  raise  and  purify  them 
by  disclosing  the  response  which  God  had  prepared  for  them  ;  to 
disengage  them  from  that  which  had  been  partial,  preparatory, 
transient,  and  to  fasten  them  on  their  true  satisfaction  :  then  we 
might  reverently  expect  that  the  method  of  this  teaching  would 
probably  be  such  as  in  the  New  Testament  is  shown  to  us  in 
regard  to  the  doctrine  of  Sacraments. 

(i)  For,  in  the  first  place,  we  find  abundant  and  pervading 
signs  that  the  general  principle  is  taken  up  into  Christianity  and 
carried  on  as  a  characteristic  note  of  its  plan  and  work.  The  reg¬ 
ular  communication  of  its  prerogative  and  characteristic  gift  through 
outward  means  ;  the  embodiment  of  grace  in  ordinances  ;  the 
designation  of  visible  agents,  acts,  and  substances  to  be  the 
instruments  and  vehicles  of  Divine  virtue  ;  —  this  principle  is  so 
intimately  and  essentially  woven  into  the  texture  of  Christianity  that 
it  cannot  be  got  out  without  destroying  the  whole  fabric.  As  our 
Saviour  gradually  sets  forth  the  outlines  of  His  design  for  the 
redemption  of  the  world,  at  point  after  point  the  Sacramental  prin¬ 
ciple  is  affirmed,  and  material  instruments  are  designated  for  the 
achievement  of  His  work.  ‘  He  proclaims  Himself  the  Founder  of 


x.  Sacraments . 


349 


a  world-wide  and  imperishable  Society/  ‘  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  ’ 
or  ‘  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  ’ 1  and  while  the  claims  and  energies  of 
this  kingdom  penetrate  the  hidden  depths  of  life,  so  that  it  is  indeed 
4  a  moral  empire/  and  4  a  realm  of  souls/  yet  none  the  less  is  it 
openly  to  take  its  place  in  human  history.  It  is  not  an  unsub¬ 
stantial  haze  of  vague  spirituality,  precarious  and  indistinct,  hover¬ 
ing,  or  said  to  hover  half  way  between  earth  and  sky,  with  no 
precise  attachment  to  either.  At  once,  it  is  the  kingdom  ot 
Heaven,  and  it  is  to  have  all  the  apparel  of  a  visible  society;  it 
touches  this  earth  with  a  definite  and  inclusive  hold  ;  it  ennobles 
material  conditions  by  a  frank  acceptance.  As  in  the  Incarnation 
so  also  in  the  preparation  of  the  Church  to  be  the  ever-present 
witness  to  Christ,  the  guardian  of  His  truth,  and  the  home  of  His 
people,  the  principle  was  sustained  that,  in  the  redemption  of  the 
world,  God  would  be  pleased  to  take  the  instruments  of  His  work 
out  of  that  world  which  He  was  renewing ;  that  the  quickening 
Spirit  would  not  repel  or  destroy  the  material  order,  but  would 
assume,  pervade,  and  use  it. 

(2)  And,  in  the  second  place,  the  particular  expressions  of  the 
general  principle  thus  reaffirmed  were  authoritatively  appointed ; 
the  approved  anticipation  of  men  was  left  in  no  uncertainty  as  to 
its  response  and  sanction  ;  men  were  told  plainly  what  were  the 
outward  and  visible  signs  which  God  had  chosen  in  this  world  to 
be  the  means  whereby  His  inward  and  spiritual  grace  should  be 
received.  It  is  difficult  indeed  to  imagine  any  way  in  which  more 
weight  and  incisiveness  could  have  been  given  to  the  appointment 
of  the  two  great  Sacraments  than  in  the  way  which  Christ  was 
pleased  to  use, —  any  way  in  which  Baptism  and  the  Eucharist 
could  have  been  more  firmly  and  impressively  designated  as  the 
vital  and  distinctive  acts  of  the  Christian  Church.  We  can  hardly 
wonder  at  their  pre-eminence  in  Christian  thought  and  life  when 
we  remember  how  they  were  fastened  upon  the  consciousness  of 
the  Church.  Their  antecedents  lay  in  that  long  mysterious  course 
of  history  which  Almighty  God  had  led  on  through  the  strange 
discipline  of  the  changeful  centuries  to  the  coming  of  Christ.  And 
then,  there  had  been  in  Christ’s  teaching  certain  utterances  which 
seemed  to  have  a  peculiar  character ;  which  were  plainly  of  essen¬ 
tial  importance,  concerning  things  necessary  for  all  His  disciples, 
bearing  on  the  primary  conditions  of  their  life  ;  and  yet  utterances 
which  were  left  unexplained,  however  men  might  be  troubled, 
offended,  overstrained,  discouraged  by  them  ;  left  as  though  their 


1  H.  P.  Liddon,  Bampton  Lectures,  pp.  101-105. 


350 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


explanation  was  impossible,  until  the  occurrence  of  events  which 
could  not  be  forestalled.1  JBut  such  utterances,  if  they  could  not 
be  understood,  could  still  less  be  forgotten ;  they  lived  in  the 
memory,  they  haunted  the  imagination,  they  sustained  expectancy ; 
they  were  as  a  prophetic  conviction  in  the  mind,  strong,  deep,  frag¬ 
mentary,  and  unsatisfied.  Who  can  measure  the  consilient  force 
with  which,  in  moments  of  intensest  thought  and  feeling,  moments 
when  all  the  besetting  conditions  seemed  quick  with  some  immi¬ 
nent  disclosure,  the  Divine  commands,  meeting,  illuminating,  estab¬ 
lishing  those  former  utterances,  would  be  riveted  upon  the  hearts 
of  men  and  clenched  forever  into  the  faith  and  practice  of  the 
Church,  with  a  dominance  never  to  be  forgotten  or  infringed,  as  a 
very  primal  law  of  life?  In  the  unique,  controlling  awe  of  His 
impending  agony  and  crucifixion ;  in  the  heralded  majesty  of  His 
appearance  to  the  disciples  upon  the  mountain  where  He  had 
appointed  them,  and  with  the  proclamation  of  the  absolute  author¬ 
ity  given  to  Him  in  heaven  and  in  earth  :  so  did  our  Lord  enact 
the  ordinances  to  which  His  earlier  words  had  pointed,  and  in 
which  at  length  their  meaning  was  made  clear ;  so  did  He  institute 
His  two  great  Sacraments  ;  so  did  He  disentangle  the  Sacramental 
principle  from  all  that  had  been  temporary,  accidental,  disciplinary, 
accommodated,  in  its  past  embodiment,  and  determine  what  should 
be  the  form  of  its  two  main  expressions,  for  all  ages  and  for  all 
men  in  His  Church  ‘  until  His  coming  again,’  ‘  even  unto  the  end 
of  the  world.’ 

It  may  be  in  place  here  briefly  to  suggest  a  few  thoughts  with 
regard  to  that  which  was  secured  by  this  authoritative  designation 
of  the  outward  sign  in  each  great  Sacrament,  beyond  all  that  could 
have  been  attained  by  the  general  enunciation  of  the  Sacramental 
principle. 

Much  might  be  said  —  and  much  more,  doubtless,  be  still  left 
unsaid  —  about  the  especial  fitness  of  the  very  elements  thus 
chosen  from  the  material  world  to  be  the  vehicles  of  saving 
grace,  —  for  the  water  and  the  bread  and  wine  are  called  to  their 
place  in  the  Divine  work  with  deep  and  far-reaching  associations 
already  belonging  to  them.  Again,  the  very  simplicity  and  com¬ 
monness  of  the  elements  taken  into  God’s  nearest  service  may  have 
been  a  part  of  the  reason  why  they  were  appointed  ;  for  in  no  other 
way  could  the  minds  of  men  have  been  more  surely  and  perma¬ 
nently  hindered  from  many  of  the  mistakes  to  which  in  the  past 
they  had  been  prone  ;  in  no  other  way  could  the  Sacramental 


1  Cf.  St.  John  iii.  3-13 ;  vi.  51-67. 


x.  Sacraments. 


351 


principle  have  been  more  perfectly  disengaged  from  the  misconcep¬ 
tions  which  had  confused  its  purity  ;  in  no  other  way  could  men 
have  been  more  plainly  taught  that  in  no  expense  of  this  world’s 
goods,  in  no  labor  of  their  own  hands,  in  no  virtue  of  the  material 
elements,  but  only  in  the  sustained  energy  of  His  will,  who  took 
and  penetrated  and  employed  them,  lay  the  efficacy  of  the  Sacra¬ 
ment.  The  very  plainness  of  the  element  hallowed  in  the  Sacra¬ 
ment  was  to  urge  up  men’s  thoughts  from  it  to  Him.  But,  above 
all,  the  decisive  appointment  of  particular  signs  and  acts  may  seem 
to  have  been  necessary  in  order  that  the  Sacraments  might  take 
their  places  as  acts  emanating  from,  upheld  by,  and  characteristic 
of  the  Church’s  corporate  life,  and  not  merely  concerned  with  the 
spiritual  welfare  of  the  individual.  So  St.  Paul  appeals  to  Baptism 
and  to  the  Eucharist  as  both  effecting  and  involving  the  commu¬ 
nion  of  saints.1  By  Sacraments  men  are  to  be  taken  out  of  the 
narrowness  and  isolation  of  their  own  lives,  out  of  all  engrossing 
preoccupation  with  their  own  state,  into  the  ample  air,  the  gener¬ 
ous  gladness,  the  unselfish  hope  of  the  City  of  God  ;  they  are  to 
escape  from  all  daily  pettiness,  all  morbid  self-interest,  all  prepos¬ 
terous  conviction  of  their  own  importance,  into  a  fellowship  which 
spans  all  ages  and  all  lands.  By  Baptism  and  the  Eucharist  the 
communion  of  saints  is  extended  and  sustained ;  they  are  the  dis¬ 
tinctive  acts  of  the  Body  of  Christ;  and  as  such  He  designated 
their  essential  form,  to  abide  unaltered  through  all  that  changed 
around  them.  And  even  those  who  stand  aloof  from  them  and 
from  the  faith  on  which  they  rest,  may  feel  the  unmatched  great¬ 
ness  of  an  act  that  has  held  its  place  in  human  life  through  all  the 
revolutions  of  more  than  eighteen  hundred  years,  —  an  act  that  in 
its  essential  characteristics  is  to-day  what  it  was  when  Imperial  Rome 
was  venerated  as  eternal ;  an  act  that  is  every  day  renewed,  with 
some  measure,  at  least,  of  the  same  faith  and  hope  and  love,  in 
every  land  where  Christ  is  owned. 

(3)  dhe  Sacramental  principle  had  been  most  plainly  adopted  by 
our  Lord  ;  the  spiritual  forces  with  which  He  would  renew  the  face 
of  the  earth  were  to  be  exerted  through  material  instruments  ;  and 
He  Himself  had  secured  the  principle  from  uncertainty  or  vague¬ 
ness  or  individualism  in  its  expression  by  appointing,  with  the  ut¬ 
most  weight  and  penetration  of  His  authority,  the  definite  form  of 
two  great  ordinances,  which  were  to  begin  and  to  advance  the  super¬ 
natural  life  of  His  members,  to  extend  the  range  of  His  Church, 
and  to  maintain  its  unity.  In  the  acts  and  letters  of  His  Apostles 

1  1  Cor.  x.  1 7  ;  Gal.  iii.  27,  28;  Eph.  iv.  5. 


352  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

we  see  how  His  teaching  and  bidding  had  been  understood  ;  how 
promptly  and  decisively  His  Church  declared  its  life,  its  work,  its 
mission,  to  be  Sacramental.  The  meaning  and  emphasis  of  His 
commandment  appear  in  the  obedience  of  those  to  whom  it  was 
given  ;  in  the  first  words  of  authoritative  counsel  uttered  by  an 
Apostle  ;  in  the  first  act  of  the  Spirit-bearing  Body ;  and  thence¬ 
forward  in  the  characteristic  habits  of  the  Christian  life.1 

From  the  first  the  prominence  of  Sacraments  and  Sacramental 
rites  is  constant.  In  the  teaching  of  later  ages  their  prominence 
may  have  been  relatively  greater,  in  contrast  with  the  poverty  of 
faith  and  life  in  those  who  insisted  on  their  power  while  they  forgot 
their  meaning  ;  but  absolutely  it  would  be  hard  to  devise  a  higher 
place  for  them  than  that  which  they  hold  in  St.  Paul’s  Epistles. 
To  be  living  a  life  received,  nourished  and  characterized  by  Bap¬ 
tism  and  by  the  Eucharist,  —  this  is  the  distinctive  note  of  a  Chris¬ 
tian  ;  thus  does  he  differ  from  other  men.  The  Sacrament  by 
which  he  became  a  member  of  Christ’s  body  must  determine 
throughout  the  two  distinctive  qualities  of  his  inner  life  :  its  sever¬ 
ance  from  all  forms  of  worldliness,  all  dependence  on  natural 
advantages  or  natural  strength,  all  confidence  in  the  satisfaction  of 
external  rules  ;  and  its  unfailing  newness,  as  issuing  from  Him  Who 
being  raised  from  the  dead,  dieth  no  more,  and  as  carrying  through 
all  its  activities  the  air  and  light  of  heaven.2  And  the  Sacrament 
which  continually  renews  in  him  the  presence  of  his  Lord,  meeting 
with  unstinted  wealth  the  demands  of  work  and  growth,  assuring 
and  advancing  the  dominance  of  the  new  manhood  in  him  :  this  in 
like  manner  must  determine  the  sustained  simplicity  of  his  bearing 
towards  those  who  with  him  are  members  of  the  one  Body,  quick¬ 
ened  and  informed  by  the  one  Life.3  That  men  may  receive  eternal 
life  through  Jesus  Christ :  this  is  the  end  of  all  labors  in  His  name  ; 
to  this  all  else  is  tributary  and  conducive ;  and  there  is  no  hesita¬ 
tion  as  to  the  visible  means  by  which  God  will  effect  this  end  in  all 
those  who  have  ‘  faith  to  be  healed.’  And  in  this  sense  it  may 
perhaps  be  said  that  in  Christianity  even  doctrine  holds  not  indeed 
a  subordinate,  but  (that  which  involves  nothing  but  dignity)  a 
subservient  place  ;  since  it  is  the  strength  and  glory  of  Christian 
doctrine  that  it  essentially  ‘  leads  on  to  something  higher,  —  to  the 
Sacramental  participation  in  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  Christ/  4 

IV.  Thus  then  there  appears  at  the  beginning  the  dominance  of 

1  Acts  ii.  38,  41,  42. 

2  Cf.  Rom.  vi.  3.  4  ;  Gal.  iii.  27,  28  ;  Col.  ii.  12,  20-23. 

8  Cf.  1  Cor.  x.  17,  xii.  25,  26. 

4  W.  Shirley,  The  Church  in  the  Apostolic  Age,  p.  103. 


x.  Sacraments . 


353 


that  note  which  has  sounded  on  through  all  succeeding  ages  ;  thus 
may  we  trace  from  the  first  days  the  dispensation  of  Divine  energy 
through  agents  and  acts  and  efficacious  symbols  gathered  out  of  this 
visible  world.  It  remains  to  be  shown  with  what  reason  it  can  be 
alleged  that  herein  the  Church  evinces  its  recognition  of  the  com¬ 
plexity  of  human  nature,  and  guards  the  truth,  that  in  the  entirety 
of  his  being  man  has  to  do  with  God,  the  Creator,  Redeemer, 
Sanctifier  of  his  soul  and  body.  Along  three  lines  of  thought  this  may 
in  some  degree  appear ;  and  if  the  evidence  that  can  be  indicated 
is  recognized  as  in  any  measure  real,  it  would  be  unphilosophic  to 
set  it  aside  because  it  may  be  fragmentary  and  inconclusive  :  since 
fragments  are  all  that  in  such  a  matter  we  are  likely  as  yet  to  see. 

(i)  First,  then,  there  is  a  profound,  far-reaching  import  in  the 
bare  fact  that  material  and  visible  means  are  thus  hallowed  to  effect 
the  work  of  God,  to  bear  His  unseen  grace.  For  it  must  not  be 
thought  that  in  this  Sacramental  union  of  the  visible  and  the  invisible 
we  have  only  an  interesting  parallel  to  the  twofold  nature  of  man,  a 
neat  and  curious  symmetry,  a  striking  bit  of  symbolism  or  accommo¬ 
dation.  Nor  is  the  deepest  significance  of  the  Sacramental  principle 
brought  out  when  it  is  said  quite  truly  that  ‘  it  has  pleased  God  to 
bind  His  invisible  operations  to  outward  and  visible  methods,’  ‘  lest 
that  which  is  thus  invisible  should  for  that  reason  be  disbelieved  or 
counterfeited  or  in  any  of  the  various  ways  in  which  human  incredu¬ 
lity  or  human  enthusiasm  might  do  it  wrong,  abused  to  the  injury  of 
man.’ 1  We  may  see  in  this  aspect  of  the  system  that  it  has  indeed 
secondary  advantages  of  the  highest  worth  ;  but  its  surpassing  glory  is 
in  its  primary  and  essential  character,  as  the  regular  employment  of 
visible  means  for  the  achievement  of  Divine  mysteries.  For  thus 
our  whole  estimate  of  this  world  is  affected.  Its  simplest  objects 
have  their  kindred,  as  it  were,  in  the  court,  in  the  very  presence 
chamber  of  the  Most  High ;  and  actions  such  as  we  see  in  it  day 
after  day  have  been  advanced  to  a  supreme  distinction. 

And  so  through  Sacramental  elements  and  acts  Christianity 
maintains  its  strong  inclusive  hold  upon  the  whole  of  life.  The  con¬ 
secration  of  material  elements  to  be  the  vehicles  of  Divine  grace 
keeps  up  on  earth  that  vindication  and  defence  of  the  material 
against  the  insults  of  sham  spiritualism  which  was  achieved  forever 
by  the  Incarnation  and  Ascension  of  Jesus  Christ.  We  seem  to 
see  the  material  world  rising  from  height  to  height ;  pierced,  indeed, 
and,  as  it  were,  surprised  at  every  stage  by  strange  hints  of  a  destiny 
beyond  all  likelihood ;  yet  only  gradually  laying  aside  the  inertness 

1  Moberly’s  Bampton  Lectures,  pp.  29,  30. 

2.3 


354 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


of  its  lower  forms,  gradually  seeming  to  y  ield  itself,  not  merely  to 
the  external  fashioning  of  spirit,  but  also  to  its  inner  and  transforming 
occupation  :  till  in  humanity  it  comes  within  sight  of  that  which  God 
has  been  preparing  for  it,  even  the  reception  of  His  own  image  and 
likeness.  And  yet  this  is  but  the  beginning  :  and  though  sin  delays 
the  end,  and  holds  back  the  crown  of  all,  it  is  but  for  a  time ;  in 
due  season  there  is  made  known  that  absolutely  highest  honor  to 
which  God  has  been  leading  on  the  work  of  His  hands,  even  that 
in  its  highest  type  it  should  be  taken  into  God ;  that  the  Eternal 
Word  should  be  made  man,  and  from  a  human  mother  receive  our 
nature,  so  that  a  material  body  should  be  His  body ;  His  in  birth, 
and  growth,  and  death  ;  His  in  all  its  relations  with  the  visible  world  ; 
His  for  suffering,  for  weariness,  for  tears,  for  hunger ;  His  upon  the 
cross  and  in  the  tomb  ;  His  to  rise  with  ;  and,  at  length,  His  at  the 
right  hand  of  God.  Thus  was  the  visible  received  up  into  glory ; 
thus  was  the  forecast  of  spiritual  capacity  in  the  material  perfectly 
realized  ;  and  by  the  body  of  the  ascended  Saviour,  an  entrance  for 
the  whole  being  of  man  into  the  realm  of  spirit  is  assured.  ‘  There 
is  a  spiritual  body :  ’ 1  no  part  of  the  material  order  can  be  quite 
untouched  by  the  light  that  issues  from  those  astounding  words, 
and  from  the  triumph  they  record.  And  that  truth,  that  triumph, 
that  possibility  of  unhindered  interpenetration  between  the  spiritual 
and  the  material  is  pre-eminently  attested  upon  earth  by  the 
two  great  Sacraments  of  the  Christian  Church.  In  those  mysteries 
where  water  is  sanctified  to  the  washing  away  of  sin,  and  where 
material  substances  are  made  spiritual  food,  there  is  a  continual 
witness  of  the  victory  that  has  been  won,  a  real  earnest  of  that 
which  shall  hereafter  be  achieved,  a  vivid  declaration  that  the 
barrier  between  the  spiritual  and  the  material  is  not  absolute  or 
eternal. 

Nor  is  this  deep  truth  without  practical  and  far-reaching  con¬ 
sequences  in  human  life.  For  immediately  it  thus  appears  that 
the  unreal  spirituality  which  consists  in  a  barren  and  boastful  dis¬ 
paragement  of  ritual  observance  or  of  outward  acts,2  of  earthly 
relationships  or  of  secular  life,  of  natural  feelings  or  of  bodily 
health,  clashes  with  Christian  teaching  as  sharply  as  it  does  with 
human  nature  and  with  common-sense.  And  then,  in  perfect 
accordance  with  this  principle,  the  spiritual  energy  of  the  Church 
is  sacramentally  conveyed  for  the  hallowing  of  stage  after  stage 
in  the  due  order  of  a  human  life,  as  body,  soul,  and  spirit  are 

1  i  Cor.  xv.  44. 

2  Cf.  Professor  Milligan,  The  Resurrection  of  Our  Lord,  Lect.  vi.  pt.  i.  §  c. 


x.  Sacraments . 


355 


advanced  towards  the  end  for  which  they  were  created.  Not  only 
in  the  initial  act  whereby  all  are  bidden  to  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  God,  and  at  the  dawn  of  consciousness,  the  onset  of  evil  is 
forestalled  by  the  cleansing  and  regenerating  work  of  God  the 
Holy  Ghost,  —  not  only  in  the  ever-needed,  ever-ready  mystery  of 
glory  whereby,  amidst  the  stains  and  sorrows  of  the  world,  all  may 
again  and  again  be  ‘  filled  with  the  very  essence  of  restoration  and 
of  life  ;  ’ 1  but  at  other  moments  too,  when  the  soul  of  man  rises 
up  towards  God  in  the  divinely  quickened  venture  of  faith,  the 
strength  of  the  Most  High  is  perfected  in  human  weakness,  and  in 
Sacramental  acts  the  things  that  are  not  seen  enter  into  the  history 
of  the  things  that  are  seen.  It  is  most  unfortunate  that  the  associ¬ 
ations  of  controversy  should  hinder  men  from  frankly  and  thank¬ 
fully  recognizing  the  wide  range  of  Sacramental  action  in  Christian 
life.  The  dispute  as  to  the  number  of  the  Sacraments  is,  indeed, 
‘  a  question  of  a  name ;  ’ 2  and  it  ought  to  have  been  acknowl¬ 
edged  all  along  that  the  name  was  being  used  with  different  and 
shifting  meanings.  That  men  knew  that  it  did  not  designate  an 
essentially  distinct  class  of  exactly  equivalent  units  is  shown  on  all 
sides.  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  seems  to  doubt,  at  least,  whether 
there  are  not  more  than  seven  Sacraments,  divides  the  seven  into 
groups  with  very  important  notes  of  difference,  and  decides  that 
the  Eucharist  is  4  Sacramentorum  omnium  potissimum  ;  ’ 3  Calvin 
was  not  unwilling  that  the  laying  on  of  hands  should  be  called  a 
Sacrament,  though  he  would  not  reckon  it  ‘  inter  ordinaria  Sacra- 
menta  ;  ’ 4  the  Council  of  Trent  has  an  anathema  for  any  one  who 
says  that  the  seven  Sacraments  are  so  equal  that  none  is  more 
worthy  than  another  ; 5  Richard  Baxter  distinguishes  between  ‘  three 
sorts  of  Sacraments  ;  ’  in  the  second  sense  of  the  name,  in  which  it 
is  taken  to  mean  ‘  any  solemn  Investiture  of  a  person  by  minis¬ 
terial  delivery,  in  a  state  of  Church-privileges,  or  some  special 
gospel-mercy,’  he  grants  ‘ that  there  are  five  Sacraments,  — -  Bap¬ 
tism,  Confirmation,  Absolution,  the  Lord’s  Supper,  and  Ordina¬ 
tion  ;  ’  and  elsewhere  he  declares  that  ‘  they  that  peremptorily  say 
without  distinguishing  that  there  are  but  two  Sacraments  in  all,  do 
but  harden  them  (the  Papists)  by  the  unwarrantable  narrowing  of 
the  word.’ 6  There  is,  indeed,  no  reason  why  any  one  should  hesi- 

1  Wright’s  Ancient  Collects,  p.  152. 

2  C.  Gore,  Roman  Catholic  Claims,  p.  170. 

3  St.  Th.,  iii.  Qu.  LXV.  Art.  1,  4,  3.  4  Calv.,  Inst.,  IV.  xiv.  20. 

5  Cone.  Trident.,  Sess.  VII.,  Can.  iii. 

3  Richard  Baxter,  Confirmation  and  Restauration,  pp.  88,  89  ;  Ecclesi¬ 
astical  Cases  of  Conscience,  Qu.  99.  Cf.  J.  S.  Pollock,  Richard  Baxter  on 
the  Sacraments,  §  58. 


356  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

tate  to  mark  the  Love  of  God  meeting  in  Sacramental  ordinances 
the  need  of  man  at  point  after  point  in  the  course  of  his  probation. 
Differences  in  the  manner  of  appointment  or  in  the  range  of  appli¬ 
cation  may  involve  no  difference  at  all  in  the  reality  of  the  power 
exercised  and  the  grace  conveyed.  And  so  we  may  see  the  Spirit¬ 
bearing  Church,  with  whole-hearted  recognition  of  all  the  elements 
and  wants  of  human  life,  proffering  to  men  through  visible  means 
the  manifold  gifts  of  grace  needed  for  their  progress  and  welfare 
in  the  way  until  they  reach  the  Country.  As  temptation  grows 
more  complex  and  severe,  and  the  soul  begins  to  realize  the  war¬ 
fare  that  it  has  to  wage,  the  Personal  indwelling  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  vouchsafed  by  the  laying  on  of  hands,  completes  the  prep¬ 
aration  of  Christ's  soldier ;  as  the  desolating  sense  of  failure 
threatens  to  unnerve  the  will  and  to  take  such  hold  upon  the  soul 
that  it  is  not  able  to  look  up,  the  authoritative  message  of  forgive¬ 
ness  brings  again  the  strength  of  purity  and  the  light  of  hope, 
and  recalls  the  scattered  forces  of  the  inner  life  to  expel  the  en¬ 
croaching  evil  and  to  regain  whatever  had  been  lost.  For  special 
vocations  there  are  special  means  of  grace  ;  by  ordination  God 
vouchsafes  to  guilty  men  the  glory  of  the  priesthood ;  and  in 
Christian  marriage  He  confers  the  grace  that  hallows  human  love 
to  be  the  brightness  and  the  safeguard  of  an  earthly  home,  and  the 
earnest  of  the  home  in  heaven.  And  thus  in  the  manifold 
employment  of  the  Sacramental  principle  there  again  appears  that 
characteristic  excellence  of  Christianity  which  is  secured  in  the 
very  nature  of  Sacraments ;  namely,  its  recognition  of  the  whole 
problem  with  which  it  claims  to  deal.  It  speaks  to  us  as  we  are ; 
there  is  no  true  need  of  which  it  will  not  take  account ;  it  will  lead 
us  without  loss  to  the  realization  of  our  entire  being. 

(2)  Secondly,  Sacraments  are  a  constant  witness  against  our 
readiness  to  forget,  to  ignore,  or  to  explain  away  the  claim  of 
Christianity  to  penetrate  the  bodily  life,  and  to  affect  the  body 
itself,  replenishing  it  here  with  powers  which  are  strange  to  it, 
lifting  it  out  of  the  reach  or  mastery  of  passions  which  falsely  boast 
that  they  are  congenial  with  it,  leading  it  on  towards  its  everlasting 
rest,  beyond  all  weakness  and  dishonor,  in  the  glory  of  God. 
This  claim,  with  the  deeply  mysterious  but  wTholly  reasonable  hope 
which  it  engenders,  has  been  set  forth  by  Hooker,  with  his  un¬ 
faltering  strength  of  thought  and  words  :  ‘  Doth  any  man  doubt 
that  even  from  the  flesh  of  Christ  our  very  bodies  do  receive  that  life 
which  shall  make  them  glorious  at  the  latter  day,  and  for  which 
they  are  already  accounted  parts  of  His  blessed  body?  Our  cor¬ 
ruptible  bodies  could  never  live  the  life  they  shall  live,  were  it  not 


x.  Sacraments. 


35  7 


that  here  they  are  joined  with  His  body,  which  is  incorruptible, 
and  that  His  is  in  ours  as  a  cause  of  immortality, — -a  cause  by 
removing,  through  the  death  and  merit  of  His  own  flesh,  that 
which  hindered  the  life  of  ours.  Christ  is  therefore,  both  as  God 
and  as  man,  that  true  Vine  whereof  we  both  spiritually  and  corporally 
are  branches.  The  mixture  of  His  bodily  substance  with  ours  is 
a  thins:  which  the  ancient  Fathers  disclaim.  Yet  the  mixture  of 
His  flesh  with  ours  they  speak  of,  to  signify  what  our  very  bodies 
through  mystical  conjunction  receive  from  that  vital  efficacy  which 
we  know  to  be  in  His  ;  and  from  bodily  mixtures  they  borrow 
divers  similitudes  rather  to  declare  the  truth  than  the  manner  of 
coherence  between  His  sacred  and  the  sanctified  bodies  of  saints.’ 1 
The  body,  as  well  as  the  spirit,  is  accessible  to  the  Divine  life ; 
there  are  avenues  by  which  the  energy  of  Christ’s  perfect  and 
glorified  manhood  can  penetrate,  inform,  affect,  transfigure,  our 
whole  being,  bodily  and  spiritual.  His  prevalence  in  the  life  of 
the  body  and  the  change  He  works  in  it  may  be  very  gradual,  dis¬ 
cerned  in  incoherent  fragments,  interrupted  by  surprising  disap¬ 
pointments,  hampered  by  limitations  which  it  would  be  unlike 
Him  now  to  overbear;  but  the  change  is  real.  The  body  is  not 
left  inert  and  brutish  and  uncheered,  while  the  spirit  is  being  car¬ 
ried  on  from  strength  to  strength,  with  growing  light  and  freedom 
and  majesty  ;  it  also  rises  at  its  Saviour’s  touch,  and  finds  from 
Him  the  earnest  of  its  liberation  and  advancement. 

The  work  of  grace  upon  the  bodi'y  nature  of  man  may  indeed 
be  a  matter  of  which  we  ought  not  to  think  save  very  humbly  and 
tentatively  :  it  is  easy  and  perilous  to  overstate  or  to  misread  the 
evidence  :  but  there  is  peril  also  in  ignoring  it.  The  language  of 
our  Blessed  Lord ;  the  clear  conviction  of  His  Apostles ;  the 
intrepid  quietude  of  His  martyrs  ;  the  patience  of  the  saints  ;  their 
splendid  and  unrivalled  endurance  in  His  service ;  the  change 
that  may  be  marked  in  the  looks  and  voices  and  instinctive  acts 
of  some  who  seem  to  be  most  nearly  His,  —  here  is  such  guid- 

]  Hooker,  V.  lvi.  g ;  cf.  E.  B.  Pusey,  University  Sermons,  p.  n  :  ‘  This  is  (if 
we  may  reverently  so  speak)  the  order  of  the  mystery  of  the  Incarnation,  that 
the  Eternal  Word  so  took  our  flesh  into  Plimself  as  to  impart  to  it  His  own 
inherent  life;  so  then  we  partaking  of  it,  that  life  is  transmitted  on  to  us 
also,  and  not  to  our  souls  only,  but  our  bodies  also,  since  we  become  flesh  of 
His  flesh  and  bone  of  His  bone,  and  He  Who  is  wholly  life  is  imparted  to  us 
wholly.  The  Life  which  He  is  spreads  around,  first  giving  its  own  vitality  to 
that  sinless  flesh  which  He  united  indissolubly  with  Himself,  and  in  it  encircling 
and  vivifving  our  whole  nature;  and  then,  through  that  bread  which  is  His 
flesh,  finding  an  entrance  to  us  individually,  penetrating  us,  soul  and  body 
and  spirit,  and  irradiating  and  transforming  us  into  His  own  light  and  life.’ 


353 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


ance  for  thought  and  hope  as  we  ought  not  to  dismiss  because  we 
cannot  make  up  a  theory  about  it.  There  are  real  facts  —  though 
they  may  be  fragmentary,  and  require  very  careful  handling  —  to 
warrant  us  in  praying  that  our  sinful  bodies  may  be  made  clean  by 
His  Body,  as  well  as  that  our  souls  may  be  washed  by  His  most 
precious  blood. 

It  is  this  truth,  with  the  higher  aspirations,  the  more  venturous 
hopes  and  efforts  which  it  suggests,  that  the  Sacramental  system  of 
the  Church  keeps  in  its  due  prominence.  It  is  at  all  events  not 
incongruous  to  think  that  the  spiritual  grace  which  is  conveyed 
by  visible  means  may  pass  through  our  spiritual  nature  to  tell  upon 
that  which  is  visible.  He  who  comes  spiritually  under  a  visible 
form  may  well  be  believed  to  work  spiritually  upon  a  visible  nature. 
It  is  not,  of  course,  to  be  thought  for  a  moment  that  our  bodies 
can  at  all  after  their  own  manner  receive  that  Food  which  is  wholly 
spiritual :  nor  that  the  visible  element  in  a  Sacrament  gives  to  our 
bodies  any  hold  upon  the  invisible  grace,  any  power  to  appropriate 
to  themselves  by  their  own  proper  energies  that  which  is  incor¬ 
poreal  and  supra-sensuous.  ‘  Only  the  soul  or  spirit  of  man  can 
take  in  and  feed  upon  a  spiritual  nutriment :  ’  1  it  is  only  (so  far 
as  our  thoughts  can  go)  through  the  avenue,  by  the  medium  of 
the  faithful  soul  that  the  spiritual  force  of  the  Sacrament  can  pene¬ 
trate  to  the  body.  But  the  fact  that  the  spiritual  virtue  comes  to 
us  under  a  form  of  which  our  bodily  senses  take  cognizance  is  at 
least  a  pledge  that  the  body  is  not  forgotten  in  the  work  of  sancti¬ 
fication.  And  it  is  something  more  than  this,  —  it  is  an  assurance 
of  that  invasion  and  penetration  of  the  material  by  the  spiritual 
which  is  the  very  ground  of  all  our  hope  for  the  redemption  of  the 
body.  There  is  in  the  very  nature  of  a  Sacrament  the  forecast  of 
some  such  hope  as  this,  —  that  He  who  said  of  the  material 
bread  ‘  This  is  My  Body,’  may,  in  His  own  time,  through  changes 
which  we  cannot  imagine,  take  to  Himself  and  lift  into  the  trans¬ 
figuring  realm  of  spirit  our  material  bodies  as  well  as  our  souls ; 
seizing,  disclosing,  perfecting  capacities  which  under  their  present 
conditions  we  hardly  suspect  in  them.  And,  perhaps,  yet  more 
than  this  may  be  said  :  for  there  would  seem  to  be  warrant  for 
trusting  that,  in  spite  of  all  hindrance  and  delay,  His  word  of 
power  even  now  goes  forth  towards  this  work,  and  in  the  holy 
Eucharist  has  its  efficacy  throughout  our  whole  nature.  It  is  the 
thought  to  which  Hooker  points  in  words  of  endless  import : 
‘there  ensueth  a  kind  of  transubstantiation  in  us,  a  true  change 


1  J.  B.  Mozley,  Lectures  and  other  Theological  Papers,  p.  204. 


x.  Sacraments. 


359 


both  of  soul  and  body,  an  alteration  from  death  to  life,’  —  words 
which  rest  on  those  of  St.  Irenseus  :  ‘  As  bread  from  the  earth 
receiving  the  invocation  of  God  is  no  longer  common  bread  but 
the  Eucharist,  consisting  of  two  things,  an  earthly  and  a  heavenly ; 
so  our  bodies  also  receiving  the  Eucharist  are  no  longer  corrupt¬ 
ible,  having  the  hope  of  the  Resurrection.’ 1  Alike  in  us  and  in  the 
Sacrament  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come  invade  the  present, 
and  already  move  towards  the  victory  which  shall  be  hereafter. 

(3)  And  thus,  in  the  third  place,  the  ministry  of  Sacraments  is 
a  perpetual  prophecy  of  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  in  us ; 
the  glory  that  shall  pervade  and  transfigure  our  whole  being. 
4  Till  He  come  ;  ’  ‘  until  His  coming  again  ;  ’  that  note  of  expect¬ 
ancy,  of  looking  towards  the  east  and  watching  for  the  return  of  a 
great  light,  discloses  a  deep  truth  about  the  Christian  Sacraments. 
They  sanction  and  confirm,  as  ever-present  witnesses  of  a  Divine 
assent,  certain  thoughts  which  will  not  let  men  rest  in  any  low 
contentment  with  the  things  of  time — with  the  approval,  the  suc¬ 
cess,  the  gratification,  or  the  systems  of  this  world.  They  declare 
with  a  perpetual  insistence  the  mysteriousness  of  our  present 
being :  they  have  a  certain  fellowship  with  those  strange  flashes 
and  pulsations  we  have  felt  of  a  life  which  seems  astray  and  alien 
here,  which  yet  somehow  suggests  the  thought  that  could  we  com¬ 
mit  ourselves  wholly  to  its  guidance,  could  we  be  replenished  with 
its  power,  we  should  not  walk  in  darkness,  but  rather,  even  in  this 
world,  be  as  the  children  of  light :  —  and  so  they  take  the  side  of 
faith  and  patience  against  the  attractions  of  completeness  and 
security  and  achievement  and  repose.  For  they  offer  to  guide 
into  the  way  of  peace,  to  welcome  into  an  ordered,  hallowed, 
course  of  loving  service  and  of  steady  growth,  those  passing  thrills 
of  an  intenser  life,  which  if  they  be  forgotten,  denied,  misunder¬ 
stood,  or  surrendered  to  the  abuse  of  wilfulness  and  vanity,  may  so 
subtly  and  terribly  be  unto  us  an  occasion  of  falling. 

It  is  given  sometimes  to  a  poet  to  sink  a  shaft,  as  it  were,  into 
the  very  depths  of  the  inner  life  :  to  penetrate  its  secret  treasuries, 
and  to  return,  Prometheus-like,  with  a  gift  of  fire  and  of  light  to 
men.  The  venturesome  words  that  record  such  a  moment  of 
penetration  and  insight  never  lose  their  power  :  they  seem  to  have 
caught  something  of  the  everlasting  freshness  of  that  world  of 
which  they  speak  :  and  one  man  after  another  may  find  in  them, 
at  some  time  of  need  or  gladness  or  awakening,  the  utterance  of 
thoughts  which  else  he  might  have  been  too  shy  or  too  faint- 


1  Hooker,  V.  lxvii  11. ;  St.  Irenaeus,  iv.  18. 


36° 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


hearted  to  acknowledge  even  to  himself.  There  is  such  a  splendid 
venture  of  courage  for  the  truth's  sake  in  those  lines  of  Wordsworth 
which  surely  no  familiarity  can  deprive  of  their  claim  to  reverence 
and  gratitude,  —  the  lines  in  which  he  tells  his  thankfulness, 

‘  For  those  obstinate  questionings 
Of  sense  and  outward  things, 

Fallings  from  us,  vanishings ; 

Blank  misgivings  of  a  creature 
Moving  about  in  worlds  not  realized, 

High  instincts  before  which  our  mortal  nature 
Did  tremble  like  a  guilty  thing  surprised  ; 

.  .  .  Those  first  affections, 

Those  shadowy  recollections, 

Which,  be  they  what  they  may, 

Are  yet  the  fountain-light  of  all  our  day, 

Are  yet  a  master-light  of  all  our  seeing  ; 

Uphold  us,  cherish,  and  have  power  to  make 
Our  noisy  years  seem  moments  in  the  being 
Of  the  eternal  Silence.’ 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  any  life  is  left  wholly  unvisited  by 
some  misgiving,  some  dim,  faltering  instinct,  some  pulse  of  hope 
or  sorrow,  which  is  akin  to  that  which  these  words  disclose ;  and 
the  moments  of  such  visitation  are  the  supreme  opportunities 
of  a  human  soul,  the  crises  of  its  tragedy.  Then  the  things  that 
belong  to  its  peace  are  being  proffered  to  it ;  then  the  Sibyl 
stands  before  it  with  the  treasures  of  unimagined  wisdom.  We 
rise,  and  we  live  and  grow  and  see  by  the  right  understanding  and 
employment  of  such  moments  ;  by  the  fresh  acts  of  self-committal 
which  they  render  possible  :  and  in  all  the  infinite  pathos  of  this 
world  there  is  no  misery  comparable  with  this,  —  that  they  should 
cease  to  trouble  us.  Whatever  a  man  may  believe  or  disbelieve, 
he  will  do  well  to  trust  these  moments  when  they  come ;  and, 
perhaps,  if  he  has  grace  to  know  and  use  them,  he  may  be  nearer 
to  the  kingdom  of  God  than  he  at  all  suspects.  But  Christianity 
does  not  leave  such  4  shoots  of  everlastingness  ’  wholly  unexplained 
or  unprovided  for. 

They  are  in  truth  the  fountain-light  of  all  our  seeing*  for  they 
are  the  disclosure,  the  assertion,  the  stepping  forward  of  His 
presence  who  alone  sustains  our  life,  our  thought,  our  love.  And, 
being  this,  they  are  therefore  also  the  tokens,  the  emerging  witness 
of  a  work  that  has  begun  in  us,  a  life  that  is  astir,  a  process  of 
change  that  may  be  carried  forward  to  an  issue  which,  even  faintly 
surmised,  might  make  all  other  desire  die  away  in  us. 

That  we  should  be  perfectly  set  free  from  sin  ;  that  God  should 
so  dwell  in  us  and  pervade  our  whole  being  that  no  part  should 


x.  Sacraments . 


361 

lag  behind  the  other ;  that  whatsoever  weakness  or  reluctance  or 
coarseness  may  have  clung  about  the  body  here  should  utterly  pass 
away,  being  driven  back  by  the  victorious  onset  of  the  Spirit  of 
God,  claiming  us  wholly,  body,  soul,  and  spirit  for  His  own ;  that 
whatsoever  pure  and  true  delight  has  here  engaged  us  should  be 
found,  faultless  and  unwearied,  in  that  energy  which  shall  be  at 
once  our  work  and  our  rest  forever,  — this  is  how  Christianity  repre¬ 
sents  to  us  the  end  of  our  development ;  and  if  indeed  the  powers 
which  are  to  achieve  so  vast  a  change  are  already  setting  about 
their  work  in  us,  it  is  not  strange  that  we  should  be  disturbed  now 
and  then  with  some  suspicion  of  it.  We  may  understand  alike 
the  severity  of  external  discipline,  and  the  sharp  disturbance  and 
upheaval  of  anything  like  complacency,  in  a  nature  that  is  being 
here  led  on  towards  so  splendid  and  inconceivable  a  transfiguration. 

But  Christianity  does  not  merely  declare  to  us  the  origin  and 
meaning  of  these  strange  invasions  of  our  ordinary  life ;  these 
emergings,  as  it  were,  of  that  which  is  behind  our  normal  activity, 
when  the  light,  the  strength,  the  love  in  which  alone  we  live  seems 
to  push  aside  the  curtain  on  which  the  background  of  our  daily 
life  is  painted,  and  to  appear  unveiled  among  the  things  of  time. 
He  who  telleth  the  number  of  the  stars  and  calleth  them  all  by 
their  names,  He  who  sendeth  the  springs  into  the  valleys,  and 
sweetly  and  mightily  ordereth  all  things  ;  He  would  not  have  these 
moments  of  intenser  life,  of  keener  consciousness,  of  quicker  and 
more  excellent  growth,  to  be  precarious  and  unaccountable,  to  be 
abrupt  and  arbitrary  as  the  rush  of  the  meteor  which  is  gone  before 
the  eye  has  clearly  seen  it,  or  could  use  its  light.  They  come  from 
Him ;  they  are  the  moments  in  which  He  makes  His  power  to  be 
known  ;  in  which  His  hand  is  felt,  and  His  voice  pervades  the  soul ; 
the  moments  when  His  presence  advances,  as  it  were,  and  bends 
over  us,  and  we  know  that  it  is  He  Himself.  And  must  we 
merely  wait  in  blank  and  idle  helplessness  for  that  which  we  so 
greatly  need  ;  for  that  which  is  our  only  source  of  strength  and 
growth?  Must  we  wait,  flagging  and  fruitless,  with  just  a  vague 
hope  that  the  quickening  presence  may  chance  to  visit  us  again, 
lighting  on  us  with  arbitrary  beneficence,  as  the  insect  lights  upon 
the  plant,  that  it  may  bring  forth  fruit  in  due  season?  Must 
we  wonder  through  days  and  months,  yes,  and  through  years, 
perhaps  of  dim  and  desolate  bewilderment,  whether  it  was  a  real 
presence  that  came  to  us ;  with  nothing  but  the  fading  memory 
of  an  individual  and  unconfirmed  impression  to  sustain  our 
hope,  to  keep  the  door  against  the  gathering  forces  of  doubt 
and  worldliness  and  despair?  Must  we  find  our  way  as  best  we 


362  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

can,  by  guidance  given  long  ago,  imperfectly  realized  even  then, 
and  more  and  more  hazily  remembered,  more  drearily  inadequate 
as  time  goes  on,  and  the  path  grows  rougher  and  less  clear?  Is 
the  greatest  effort  to  be  demanded  of  us  just  when  our  strength 
is  least  and  our  light  lowest? 1  Surely  it  is  not  His  way  to  be  thus 
arbitrary  in  compassion,  thus  desultory  and  precarious  in  showing 
mercy.  Surely  He  would  not  have  us  stray  and  faint  and  suffer 
thus.  No,  His  compassions  fail  not ;  and,  with  the  orderliness  of 
a  father’s  love,  He  has  made  us  sure  of  all  we  need ;  and  the  his¬ 
toric  Church  and  the  triumphs  of  His  saints  declare  that  He  is 
true.  He  has,  with  the  certainty  of  His  own  unchanging  word, 
promised  that  the  unseen  gift,  which  is  the  power  of  saintliness  in 
sinful  man,  shall  be  given  to  all  faithful,  humble  souls  by  ordered 
means  through  appointed  acts.  We  need  not  vaguely  hope  that 
we  may  somehow  receive  His  grace;  for  He  has  told  us  where 
and  how  we  are  to  find  it,  and  what  are  the  conditions  of  its 
unhindered  entrance  into  our  souls.  We  need  not  be  always  going 
back  to  wonder  whether  our  sins  have  been  forgiven,  or  laboriously 
stirring  up  the  glow  of  a  past  conviction  ;  for  there  is  a  ministry 
w'hich  He  has  empowered  to  convey  to  us  that  cleansing  glory 
which  is  ever  ready  to  transfigure  penitence  into  peace  and  thanks¬ 
giving.  We  need  not  live  an  utterly  unequal  life,  stumbling  to  and 
fro  between  our  ideal  and  our  caricature ; 2  for  He  has  prepared 
for  us  a  way  which  leads  from  strength  to  strength ;  and  we  know 
where  He  is  ready  to  meet  us  and  to  replenish  us  with  life  and 
light.  There  is  a  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  in  us ;  and  here  on 
earth  we  may  so  draw  near  and  take  it  to  ourselves  that  its  quiet 
incoming  tide  may  more  and  more  pervade  our  being;  with  radi¬ 
ance  ever  steadier  and  more  transforming ;  till,  in  this  world  and 
beyond  it,  He  has  made  a  perfect  work  ;  till  we  are  wholly  ruled 
and  gladdened  by  His  presence,  and  wholly  wrought  into  His 
image.  For  not  by  vague  waves  of  feeling  or  by  moments  of 
experience  wThich  admit  no  certain  measure,  no  unvarying  test,  no 
objective  verification,  but  by  an  actual  change,  a  cleansing  and 
renewal  of  our  manhood,  a  transformation  which  we  can  mark  in 
human  lives  and  human  faces,  or  trace  in  that  strange  trait  of  saint¬ 
liness  which  Christianity  has  wrought  into  the  rough  fabric  of 
human  history,  may  the  reality  of  Sacramental  grace  be  known  on 
earth  ;  known  clearly  enough,  at  all  events,  to  make  us  hopeful 
about  its  perfect  work  in  those  who  shall  hereafter  be  presented 
faultless  in  body,  soul,  and  spirit  before  the  throne  of  God. 

1  Cf.  A.  Knox,  ii.  234-6. 

2  Cf.  Martensen,  Christian  Dogmatics,  p.  1S2. 


XI. 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  POLITICS. 


♦ 


W.  J.  H.  CAMPION. 


XL 


CHRISTIANITY  AND  POLITICS . 

The  aim  of  this  essay  is  to  investigate  some  of  the  relations  of 
Christianity  to  human  society,  and  to  point  out  some  of  the  main 
lines  of  influence  which  the  Christian  Church  brings  to  bear  on  the 
organized  centres  of  social  life. 

We  are  met  at  the  outset  by  two  widely  differing  conceptions  of 
the  mode  and  direction  in  which  Christianity  acts  as  a  regenerat¬ 
ing  influence  on  the  life  of  mankind.  On  the  one  side,  Christian¬ 
ity  is  identified  with  civilization,  and  the  function  of  the  Church  is 
regarded  as  simply  the  gathering  up,  from  age  to  age,  of  the  higher 
aspirations  of  mankind  :  her  call  is  to  enter  into,  to  sympathize 
with,  and  to  perpetuate  whatever  is  pure,  noble,  and  of  good  re¬ 
port  in  laws  and  institutions,  in  art,  music,  and  poetry,  in  industry 
and  commerce,  as  well  as  in  the  moral  and  religious  usages  and 
beliefs  of  mankind.  Christianity  is  thus  not  a  higher  order,  stand¬ 
ing  over  against  and  correcting  a  lower,  but  is  itself  the  product  or 
rather  the  natural  outgrowth  of  the  progressive  moral  consciousness 
of  mankind.  The  value  of  this  mode  of  thought  is  in  emphasizing 
the  sacredness  of  secular  interests  and  duties,  and  in  its  protest 
against  dividing  the  field  of  conscience,  and  assigning  to  the  one 
part  a  greater  sanctity  than  to  the  other.  ‘  As  our  salvation 
depends  as  certainly  upon  our  behavior  in  things  relating  to  civil  life 
as  in  things  relating  to  the  service  of  God,  it  follows  that  they  are  both 
equally  matters  of  conscience  and  salvation.’ 1  Its  weakness  lies  in 
its  not  sufficiently  recognizing  one  decisive  fact  of  human  nature, 
the  fact  of  sin.  No  one,  as  it  seems  to  us,  looking  at  human  nature, 
in  himself  or  others,  with  clear,  open,  unprejudiced  eyes,  can  doubt 
the  existence  of  sin,  its  corrupting  influence  on  the  whole  nature, 
and  yet  its  fundamental  unnaturalness.  But  if  states  and  societies 
are  as  the  individuals  who  compose  them,  then  any  theory  of  society 


1  Law,  Third  Letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Bangor,  second  edition,  1762,  p.  66. 


366 


The  Religio7i  of  the  Incarnation . 


must  rest  on  the  theory  of  man ;  and  the  theory  of  man  is  imper¬ 
fect  unless  it  recognizes  the  fact  of  sin. 

On  the  other  hand  the  recoil  from  secularism,  or  the  overwhelm¬ 
ing  sense  of  the  power  and  destructiveness  of  sin  in  the  lives  of 
men  and  of  societies,  leads  others  to  draw  sharp  the  distinction 
between  things  sacred  and  things  secular.  The  order  of  things,  it 
is  said,  of  which  the  Incarnation  is  the  starting-point,  is  admittedly 
higher  than  that  secular  order  which  existed  before  it,  and  which 
even  now  surrounds  it  as  darkness  encompasses  light.  Let  us  put 
on  one  side  political  life,  local  and  national  interests,  all  that  sphere 
of  mixed  social  relations,  which  is  so  imperfect,  so  full  of  fierce 
passions,  of  strife,  envy,  and  ambition,  so  productive  of  distractions 
and  entanglements.  Let  us  concentrate  our  own  thoughts  on  sin, 
and  devote  our  own  lives  to  its  remedy.  Let  us  at  least  keep  our 
own  hands  clean,  and  use  for  our  own  discipline  that  narrower 
sphere  which  is  sufficient.  No  doubt  individuals  will  find  their 
vocation  in  some  such  attitude  as  this :  and  for  some  it  may  be 
wise  to  abstain  from  political  and  social  interests,  in  order  thus  to 
strengthen  their  influence  in  other  directions.  But  we  are  not  now 
considering  the  call  of  individual  Christians,  but  the  attitude  of  the 
Christian  Church  as  a  whole  :  and  it  would  be  easy  to  accumulate 
references  to  show  that  the  leading  minds  of  Christendom  have 
declined  to  recognize,  except  in  cases  of  special  vocation,  as  the 
duty  of  Christians  the  abdication  of  responsibility  for  the  prob¬ 
lems,  the  entanglements,  the  more  or  less  secular  issues  of  the 
ordinary  social  life  of  mankind.  Christianity,  in  the  words  of  a 
modem  writer,  has  both  to  deliver  humanity  from  its  limitations, 
and  to  bring  it  to  a  true  knowledge  of  itself.1 

These  two  conceptions  of  the  relation  of  the  Christian  society  to 
the  issues  and  interests  of  the  life  amid  which  it  moves,  correspond 
to  two  aspects  of  the  Incarnation,  which  the  deepest  Christian 
thought  holds  in  solution.  On  the  one  side,  the  human  life  of  the 
Word  of  God  may  be  regarded  as  a  fulfilment,  the  restoration  of 
an  order,  marred,  indeed,  and  broken,  but  never  completely  lost, 
| the  binding  together  of  all  truth,  all  goodness,  all  beauty,  into  one 
perfect  life  ;  on  the  other  it  is  a  reversal,  the  beginning  of  a  new 
order,  the  undoing  of  a  great  wrong  which  has  eaten  deep  into 
human  nature,  the  lifting  up  of  mankind  out  of  the  helpless  slavery 
of  sin  into  the  freedom  of  righteousness.  These  two  aspects  of  the 
Incarnation  are  not  contradictory,  but  complementary.  However 

1  Martensen,  Christian  Ethics,  special  part,  second  division,  English  trans¬ 
lation,  p.  98. 


xi.  Christianity  and  Politics .  367 

difficult  it  may  be  for  us  to  find  their  unity  in  thought,  they  had 
their  unity  in  a  life. 

In  the  same  way,  the  problem  with  which  Christianity  has  to  deal 
in  its  relations  to  human  society  has  two  sides.  It  cannot  hold 
itself  aloof  from  the  great  currents  and  movements  of  that  ever- 
flowing  and  ebbing  human  life,  in  which  it  shares,  which  it  has 
to  redeem,  to  purify,  and  to  quicken.  ‘  In  the  great  sea  of  human 
society,  part  of  it,  yet  distinguishable  from  it,  is  the  stream  of  the 
existence  of  the  Church.’ 1  And  yet  it  has  to  maintain  as  a  debt 
it  owes  to  future  generations  as  well  as  the  present,  the  purity  of 
its  own  moral  standard,  the  independence  of  its  own  deepest  life. 

To  spiritualize  life  without  ceasing  to  be  spiritual,  to  maintain  a 
high  morality  while  at  the  same  time  interpenetrating  a  non-Chris¬ 
tian  or  very  imperfectly  Christianized  society  with  its  own  moral 
habits  and  manners,  is  a  task  which  presupposes  great  cohesion 
and  tenacity  on  the  part  of  the  Christian  Church.  And  it  is  for 
that  reason  that  in  speaking  of  the  Church  we  shall  have  mainly  in 
view  that  solid,  highly  articulated,  permanent  core  of  Christendom,2 
which,  however  broken  into  fragments,  and  weakened  by  its  own 
divisions,  maintains  a  clearly  marked  type,  on  the  side  of  doctrine 
in  its  creeds  and  sacred  writings,  on  the  side  of  worship  in  its  sac¬ 
raments  and  traditional  liturgies,  on  the  side  of  organization  in  its 
ministry,  as  well  as  holding  the  life  of  Christ  its  standard  of  perfect 
living.  Those  Christian  bodies  which  float,  more  or  less  closely 
knit  together,  around  the  central  core  of  the  Church,  have  often 
rendered  great  services  in  advancing  on  special  points  the  standard 
of  social  and  personal  morality,  and  they  are  more  flexible,  and 
able  rapidly  to  throw  themselves  into  new  crusades ;  but  it  may 
well  be  doubted  if  their  work  could  have  been  done  at  all  without 
the  more  rigid  and  stable  body  behind  them,  with  its  slow  move¬ 
ments,  but  greater  Catholicity  of  aim  and  sympathy ;  and  certainly 
it  would  in  the  long  run  have  been  better  done,  if,  like  the  great 
monastic  bodies,  they  had  remained  as  distinct  organizations 
within  the  Church. 

What,  then,  is  the  attitude  of  the  Church  towards  human  society, 
and  especially  towards  human  society  as  gathered  up  and  concen¬ 
trated  in  States?  What  duties  does  it  recognize  towards  nations, 
towards  human  society  as  a  whole  ? 

I.  There  is  a  certain  order  of  debated  questions,  on  which  it 
cannot  be  said  that  the  Christian  Church  is  pledged  to  one  side  or 
the  other,  —  she  leaves  them  open.  Individual  Christians  take  one 

1  Church,  Oxford  House  Papers,  No.  xvii.,  The  Christian  Church,  p.  io. 

2  Holland,  Creed  and  Character,  first  edition,  1887,  p.  156. 


3C8 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


side  or  the  other.  The  Christian  society  recognizes  that  the  differ¬ 
ences  are  due  to  diversities  of  temperament  and  national  character, 
and  to  the  varying  conditions  under  which  human  societies  live,  and 
therefore  that  they  may  be  best  left  to  human  experience  to  solve. 

In  this  class  of  questions  would  come  the  problem  debated 
since  the  time  of  Herodotus,  but  to  which  no  general  answer  is 
really  possible  :  What  is  the  best  form  of  government  ?  On  this 
problem  the  Church  is,  so  to  speak,  frankly  opportunist.  Here  we 
may  quote  the  view  of  St.  Augustine,  as  stated  in  the  De  Civitate 
Dei:1  ‘The  Heavenly  City,  in  its  wanderings  on  earth,  summons 
its  citizens  from  among  all  nations,  .  .  .  being  itself  indifferent  to 
whatever  differences  there  may  be  in  the  customs,  laws,  and  insti¬ 
tutions  by  which  earthly  peace  is  sought  after  or  preserved,  not  res¬ 
cinding  or  destroying  any  of  them,  but  rather  keeping  and  following 
after  them  as  different  means  adopted  by  different  races  for  obtain¬ 
ing  the  one  common  end  of  earthly  peace,  provided  only  they  are 
no  obstacle  to  the  religion  by  which  men  are  taught  the  worship  of 
the  one  supreme  and  true  God.’  In  the  same  spirit,  in  his  dialogue 
De  libero  Arbitrio ,2  he  dwells  on  the  mutable  character  of  human 
law.  That  law  is  temporal,  which,  ‘  though  just,  may  yet  be  justly 
changed  from  time  to  time,’  i.  e.,  as  the  conditions  change.  Thus, 
a  Democracy  is  best  adapted  to  a  grave  and  temperate  people, 
public-spirited  and  willing  to  make  sacrifices  for  the  common  good  ; 
while  it  is  better  for  a  more  corrupt,  more  easily  flattered  people, 
greedy  of  private  gain,  to  be  under  an  Aristocracy  or  a  Monarchy. 
Or  if  we  wish  for  a  more  modem  statement  of  the  traditional  view 
of  the  Christian  Church,  we  shall  find  it  in  an  encyclical  letter 3  of 
Leo  XIII.  :  ‘  The  right  of  sovereignty  in  itself  is  not  necessarily 
united  with  any  particular  form  of  government :  it  can  rightly  as¬ 
sume,  now  one  form,  now  another,  provided  only  that  each  of  these 
forms  does  in  very  deed  secure  useful  results  and  the  common 
good.’  It  will  be  noticed  that  two  qualifications  are  introduced, 
the  one  by  St.  Augustine,  the  other  by  Pope  Leo,  limiting  their 
acceptance  of  all  forms  of  government.  It  is  possible  for  Christian 
citizens  to  take  an  active  part  in  every  de  facto  government  which 
(i)  does  not  hinder  the  free  and  peaceable  practice  of  the  Chris¬ 
tian  religion,  and  (2)  whose  real  aim  is  the  common  good,  and 
which  does,  in  fact,  work  for  the  advantage  of  its  subjects.  Not 
all  governments,  even  in  the  nineteenth  century,  satisfy  these  tests. 

In  the  same  way,  there  have  been  the  widest  differences  between 
Christian  thinkers  on  the  most  important  questions,  in  which  auto- 

1  xix.  17.  2  i.  6.  3  Immortale  Dei. 


xi,  Christianity  and  Politics . 


369 


cratic  and  democratic  leanings  show  themselves,  such,  for  instance, 
as  that  of  the  origin  of  sovereignty,  i.  e.  of  that  rule  of  man  over 
man,  which  is  the  foundation  of  civil  society.  The  view  indicated, 
though  not  worked  out,  by  St.  Augustine,1  that  the  rule  of  man 
over  man  had  its  origin  in  the  Fall,  and  was  therefore  part  of  the 
secondary,  not  the  primary  condition  of  mankind,  is  used  by  Greg¬ 
ory  VII.  as  a  weapon  of  assault  on  the  temporal  power,  by  Bossuet 
as  a  safe  ground  on  which  to  rest  the  duty  of  obedience  to  an  abso¬ 
lute  Monarchy.  The  other  side  is  taken  by  St.  Thomas  Aquinas. 
He  finds  the  origin  of  temporal  rule  in  the  social  nature  of  man, 
accepting  and  making  his  own  the  Aristotelian  account  of  man  as 
by  nature  a  being  fitted  for  a  common  life.  Thus,  in  a  state  of 
innocence  there  would  have  been  no  slavery  indeed,  but  govern¬ 
ment,  with  its  recognition  of  the  differences  in  ability  and  knowl¬ 
edge  among  men,  and  of  the  consequent  duty  incumbent  on  the 
wise  and  experienced  of  using  their  faculties  for  the  common  good. 
Political  rule  would  thus  be,  not  a  consequence  of  sin,  but  a  result 
of  man’s  inherently  social  nature. 

Differences  such  as  these  among  those  who  equally  start  from 
fundamentally  Christian  presuppositions  can  only  be  taken  to  show 
that  we  are  wrong  in  supposing  that  the  Christian  Church  is  bound 
up  with  either  of  the  two  great  political  leanings  which  have 
appeared  in  civil  communities  in  all  ages  of  the  world,  and  which 
have  their  ground  in  human  nature  itself.  ‘  In  every  country  of 
civilized  man,  acknowledging  the  rights  of  property,  and  by  means 
of  determined  boundaries  and  common  laws,  united  into  one 
people  or  nation,  the  two  antagonist  powers  or  opposite  interests 
of  the  State  .  .  .  are  those  of  permanence  and  of  progression.’ 2 
The  Church  recognizes  these  diverse  powers  or  interests  as  natural, 
and  therefore  accepts  the  fact  of  their  existence,  without  identify¬ 
ing  herself  with  either  of  them. 

II.  But  it  would  surely  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  because 
the  Church  is  neutral  on  certain  questions  of  Politics  that  there¬ 
fore  she  has  no  direct  teaching  to  give  on  the  vital  questions  which 
arise  with  regard  to  the  organized  common  life  of  mankind.  In 
the  rebound  from  the  minimizing  views  of  the  function  of  the 
State,  which  were  associated  in  England  with  the  Ricardian  School 
of  Economics  and  the  philosophic  Radicalism  of  J.  S.  Mill,  men 
are  ready  to  go  all  lengths  in  exalting  the  position  of  the  State  as 
the  moral  guide  of  social  life.  The  tendency  is  to  assign  the 

1  Aug.,  de  Civ.  Dei,  xix.  14,  15. 

2  S.  T.  Coleridge,  Church  and  State,  edited  by  H.  N.  Coleridge,  1839, 
p.  24. 


24  • 


370 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


whole  sphere  of  public  morals  to  the  State,  and  4  private  *  morals 
to  the  individual,  acting,  if  he  pleases,  under  the  guidance  of  one 
or  other  of  the  Christian  bodies.  However  much  we  may  welcome 
the  freer  recognition  of  corporate  responsibility,  and  the  nobler 
conception  of  the  State  as  having  a  moral  end  ;  yet  we  cannot 
help  perceiving  that  certain  limitations  are,  as  by  a  self-acting  law, 
imposed  on  its  moral  influence. 

(i)  The  State  has  been  called  the  4  armed  conscience  of  the 
community.’ 1  Looked  at  on  the  moral  side,  as  a  guide  of  the 
conscience  of  individuals,  its  arms  are  its  defect.  But  that  defect 
is  not  remediable  :  it  is  inevitable.  For  the  State  has  to  deal  with 
various  grades  of  character,  responding  to  a  vast  complexity  of 
motives,  which  may  be  roughly  classified  under  three  heads,  those 
of  duty,  self-interest,  fear  of  punishment.  To  some  4  you  ought  ’ 
is  a  sufficient  appeal ;  to  others  4  you  had  better ;  ’  while  to  a  third 
class  the  only  effective  appeal  is  4  you  must.’  Now  the  State  in 
order  to  perform  its  most  elementary  business,  that  of  securing  the 
conditions  of  an  ordered  and  civilized  life,  has  to  deal  first  of  all  with 
those  who  are  only  susceptible  of  the  lowest  motive,  —  the  dread 
of  punishment.  And  in  dealing  with  them,  it  must  of  necessity 
use  coercive  force.'2  But  the  force-associations  which  thus  grow 
up  around  all  State-action  weaken  and  enervate  its  appeal  to  the 
higher  motives,  those  of  duty  and  rational  self-interest.  The  very 
suspicion  of  compulsion  taints  the  act  done  from  duty. 

Again,  there  can  be  little  doubt  of  the  vast  influence  exercised 
on  morals  by  human  law  and  institutions.  It  is  well  known  to 
those  who  are  at  all  acquainted  with  the  life  of  the  poor  in  large 
towns,  that  in  many  cases  conscience  is  mainly  informed  by  posi¬ 
tive  law.  But  all  that  human  law  can  do  is  to  secure  a  minimum 
of  morality.3  No  doubt  it  is  true  that  indirectly  positive  law  can 
do  something  more  than  this,  because  good  citizens  will  abstain 
from  all  actions  which,  in  however  remote  a  degree,  are  likely  to 
bring  them  into  collision  with  the  law.  But  in  the  main  it  is  true 
to  say  that  what  law  can  secure  is  the  observance  on  pain  of  pun¬ 
ishment  of  a  minimum  moral  standard,  which  itself  shifts  with  the 
public  opinion  of  society,  rising  as  it  rises,  falling  as  it  falls. 

Certainly  the  State  is  sacred  :  it  is  4  of  God  :  ’  it  is  no  necessary 
evil :  but  a  noble  organ  of  good  living.  But  yet  there  are  these  nat¬ 
ural  limitations  to  the  effective  exercise  of  its  functions,  as  a  moral 

1  A.  C.  Bradley,  ‘Aristotle’s  Conception  of  the  State,’  in  Hellenica,  18S0, 
p.  243. 

2  ‘Metu  coercet,’  Aug.,  de  lib.  Arb.,  i.  15. 

8  Compare  Aug.,  de  lib.  Arb.,  i.  5. 


XT.  Christianity  and  Politics.  371 

guide.  Firstly,  it  has  to  use  force,  and,  therefore,  its  appeal  to  the 
higher  motive  is  weakened.  Secondly,  it  can  only  secure  a  minimum 
of  morality,  shifting  with  the  general  morality  of  the  community. 

Now  it  is  exactly  at  these  points  that  the  Church  steps  in  to 
supplement  the  moral  action  of  the  State,  not  as  one  part  sup¬ 
plements  another  part  of  a  single  whole,  but  rather  as  a  higher 
supplements  a  lower  order. 

It  is  in  its  appeal  to  the  higher  motives  that  the  State  is  weak  : 
it  is  in  its  appeal  to  the  higher  motives  that  the  Church  is  strong. 
If  there  have  been  times  when  the  Church  has  allowed  herself  to 
claim  or  to  assume  temporal  power,  or  without  assuming  it,  to  be 
so  closely  implicated  with  the  secular  authority  that  Church  and 
State  appeared  to  men  as  one  body  interested  in  and  maintaining 
the  existing  order,  if  she  has  used  the  weapons  of  persecution,  or 
handed  men  over  to  the  secular  arm,  then  has  she  so  far  weakened 
and  loosened  her  own  hold  on  the  higher  motives  which  move 
men  to  action.  She  may  have  become  apparently  more  powerful, 
but  it  has  always  been  at  the  cost,  perhaps  unperceived  at  the  time, 
of  some  sacrifice  of  her  own  spirituality,  and  of  the  loftiness  of  that 
moral  appeal  in  which  her  true  strength  lies.  ‘  There  is  something 
in  the  very  spirit  of  the  Christian  Church  which  revolts  from  the 
application  of  coercive  force.’ 1 

And  so,  alongside  of  the  moral  minima  of  the  secular  law,  the 
Christian  Church  maintains  moral  maxima,  moral  ideals,  or  rather 
a  moral  ideal,  ‘  Be  ye  therefore  perfect,  even  as  your  Father  which 
is  in  heaven  is  perfect.’  2  ‘Till  we  all  come  unto  a  perfect  man, 
unto  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ.’ 3  It  is 
not  that  the  law  is  undervalued,  or  contemned,  but  that  Christians 
are  urged  to  bring  their  conduct  under  principles  which  will  carry 
them  far  beyond  the  mere  obedience  to  law.  It  is  sufficient  to 
quote  from  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  ‘  Blessed  are  the  meek  .  .  . 
Blessed  are  ye,  when  men  shall  revile  you,  and  persecute  you,  and 
say  all  manner  of  evil  against  you  falsely,  for  my  sake  ...  I  say 
unto  you,  that  ye  resist  not  evil :  but  whosoever  shall  smite  thee 
on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to  him  the  other  also.  And  if  any  man 
will  sue  thee  at  the  law,  and  take  away  thy  coat,  let  him  have  thy 
cloke  also.’ 4 

The  law  and  institutions  of  a  people  rest  upon  and  give  expres¬ 
sion  to  a  group  of  moral  principles  and  ideals  ;  they  are  not  the 
only  realization  of  those  principles  and  ideals,  but  one ;  art  and 

1  Art.  on  ‘Future  Retribution,’  Church  Quarterly,  July,  1888. 

2  St.  Matt.  v.  48.  3  Eph.  iv.  13.  4  St.  Matt.  v.  5,  n,  39,  40. 


372 


1  he  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


literature  would  be  others  ;  further,  they  realize  them  mainly  on  the 
negative  side,  in  the  mode  of  prohibition.  As  that  group  of  prin¬ 
ciples  and  ideals  changes,  they  change,  sometimes  for  the  better, 
sometimes  for  the  worse.  At  first  sight  it  seems  as  if  there  was  no 
essential  difference  in  this  respect  between  the  laws  and  institutions 
of  a  nation,  and  the  manners  and  institutions  of  the  Christian 
Church,  except  that  the  one  gives  a  more  positive  and  constructive 
expression  to  the  moral  standard  of  the  time  than  the  other.  But 
there  is  this  difference,  that  the  Christian  Church  has  its  moral 
standard  in  the  past,  in  the  life  of  the  Son  of  Man  ;  it  too  recog¬ 
nizes  change,  as  age  succeeds  age,  but  the  new  duties  are  regarded 
not  as  new,  but  as  newly  brought  forth  out  of  an  already  existing 
treasure,  as  the  completer  manifestation  under  new  conditions  of 
the  meaning  of  the  life  of  Christ.  On  the  threshold  of  Christian 
morality  there  lies  that  by  which  all  its  subsequent  stages  may  be 
tested,  and  which  is  the  measure  of  advance  or  retrogression.  It  is 
this  permanent  element,  preceding  the  element  of  change  and  of 
development,  in  Christian  morality,  which  gives  it  its  authority  as 
against  the  moral  product  of  one  nation  or  one  age. 

It  is  exactly  this  authority  which  has  enabled  the  Church  to 
appeal  with  such  force  to  duty  as  precedent  to  right,  and  to  love  as 
higher  than  justice.  We  can  best  illustrate  this  steady  appeal  to 
higher  motives  by  tracing  the  steps  by  which  Christian  teachers 
have  brought  out,  one  by  one,  the  different  aspects  of  the  relations 
of  governors  and  governed  looked  at  in  the  light  of  Christian 
anthropology  and  Christian  sociology.  The  first  principles  govern¬ 
ing  the  attitude  of  individual  Christians  towards  the  various  organ¬ 
izations  of  human  society  are  laid  down  in  the  words  of  Christ, 
‘  Render  unto  Caesar  the  things  which  are  Caesar’s,  and  unto  God 
the  things  that  are  God’s.’ 1  The  command,  taken  in  connec¬ 
tion  with  its  context,  involves  two  principles  :  first,  the  recognition 
of  the  claims  of  civil  society,  and,  secondly,  their  limitation  by  a 
higher  order  of  claims,  where  they  come  into  conflict  with  the  first. 
The  passage  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,2  in  which  St.  Paul  deals 
with  the  duties  of  Christians  towards  ‘  the  powers  that  be,’  is  a  com¬ 
mentary  on  his  Master’s  teaching.  It  shows  the  connection  of  the 
first  of  these  principles  with  the  second,  by  tracing  it  back  to  its 
ground  in  the  will  of  God.  It  brings  it  into  relation  to  love, 
the  central  motive  of  the  Christian  character.  Briefly  summarized, 
the  stages  of  St.  Paul’s  argument  are  as  follows  :  (i)  he  shows  that 
all  power  is  of  Divine  origin ;  ‘  there  is  no  power  but  of  God.’ 

*  St.  Matt.  xxii.  21. 

2  Rom.  xiii.  i-io.  Compare  St.  Peter’s  teaching  in  i  St.  Pet.  ii.  13-17. 


xi.  Christianity  and  Politics. 


373 


Thus  those  who  wield  secular  power  are  ministers  of  God.  (2) 
The  administration  of  earthly  rewards  and  punishments  by  the 
secular  power  makes  for  good,  and  for  this  reason  God  uses  it  in 
His  governance  of  the  world.  Therefore  temporal  authority  is  to 
be  obeyed  4  not  only  for  wrath,  but  also  for  conscience’  sake,’  i.  e., 
not  merely  to  avoid  earthly  punishment,  but  as  a  duty.  (3)  This 
duty  may  be  regarded  as  one  application  of  the  general  maxim  of 
justice,  4  Render  to  all  their  dues.’  But  (4)  all  these  scattered  dues 
are  to  a  Christian  summed  up  under  one  vast  debt,  always  in  pro¬ 
cess  of  payment,  but  never  completely  paid.  ‘  Owe  no  man  any¬ 
thing,  but  to  love  one  another.’  4  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law.’ 
These  passages  of  the  New  Testament  put  in  the  clearest  light  the 
duty  of  obedience  to  civil  authority.  They  lay  down  its  theological 
ground  in  the  derivation  of  all  power  from  God  ;  and  its  moral 
ground  by  showing  that  such  obedience  is  one  form  of  justice,  and 
justice  itself  one  aspect  of  love.  They  thus  give  to  the  commands 
of  those  wielding  authority  in  human  society  the  firmest  sanctions. 
If  on  the  one  side  Christianity  seems  to  set  up  conscience,  as  the 
guardian  of  the  things  of  God,  against  positive  law,  it  gives  on  the 
other  a  Divine  sanction  and  consecration  to  the  whole  order  of 
things  connected  with  the  State  by  showing  its  ministerial  relation 
to,  its  defined  place  and  function  in,  God’s  ordering  of  the  world. 

This  was  the  side  of  our  Lord’s  saying  which  needed  enforcing 
on  the  Christians  of  St.  Paul’s  time.  The  civil  authority  was  the 
Roman  Empire  with  its  overwhelming  force  and  its  almost  entire 
externality  to  Christianity.  The  danger,  then,  was  the  spirit  of 
passionate  revolt  against  the  secular  power.  Men  who  were  filled 
with  the  new  wine  of  the  Spirit,  who  were  turning  the  world  upside 
down,  found  it  hard  to  submit  to  the  decrees  of  an  alien  power, 
wielded  by  heathen  :  they  pleaded  their  Christian  liberty ;  they 
could  not  understand  that  such  a  power  was  4  ordained  of  God.’ 
The  early  Christian  Fathers  found  it  sufficient,  even  when  the 
Roman  Empire  was  gradually  becoming  Christian,  to  bring  home 
to  consciences  the  teaching  of  St.  Paul.  There  was  no  need  then 
to  emphasize  in  words  the  other  side  of  our  Lord’s  saying.  There 
was  little  danger  of  undue  subservience  to  the  civil  power  being 
-  regarded  with  anything  but  disapproval :  the  danger  was  of  men 
not  giving  it  the  obedience  which  was  its  due.  ‘  We  honor  the 
Emperor,’  says  Tertullian,1  4  so  far  as  we  may,  and  so  far  as  honor 
is  due  to  him,  as  the  first  after  God  ...  as  one  who  has  only  God 
for  his  superior.’  4  If  the  Emperor  demands  tribute,’  says 
Ambrose,2  4  we  do  not  refuse  it :  the  lands  of  the  Church  pay 

1  Ad  Scap.,  ii.  2  Oratio  in  Auxentium  de  basilicis  tradendis. 


374 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


tribute ;  if  the  Emperor  wishes  for  our  lands,  he  has  the  power  to 
take  them  —  none  of  us  will  resist  him  ...  we  render  to  Caesar  what 
is  Caesar’s.’  St.  Augustine,  with  his  Stoical  leaning  and  his  Roman 
sense  of  order,  was  little  inclined  to  encourage  men  to  resist,  in 
any  case,  established  powers.  ‘  What  matters  it  under  whose  rule 
a  man  lives  who  is  to  die,  provided  only  his  rulers  do  not  force  him 
to  do  impious  and  unjust  things?’1  Only  in  one  passage  of  St.. 
Chrysostom,2  among  the  writers  of  the  first  four  centuries,  is  a  gloss ; 
given  to  St.  Paul’s  words,  ‘  There  is  no  power  but  of  God/  which 
distinguishes  the  delegation  of  power  in  general  from  God,  and  the 
delegation  of  power  by  God  to  any  particular  ruler,  and  so 
suggests  the  possibility  of  a  de  facto  ruler  to  whom  obedience  was 
not  due. 

But  this  attitude  of  the  early  Christian  teachers  was  a  very  dif¬ 
ferent  thing  from  that  attitude  of  the  English  Caroline  divines, 
which  gave  so  fatal  a  bent  to  the  teaching  of  the  English  Church 
of  the  seventeenth  century  in  the  sphere  which  lies  on  the  border¬ 
land  of  Theology  and  Politics.  What  the  early  Fathers  taught 
their  Christian  followers  was  that  it  was  their  duty  to  obey  in  secu¬ 
lar  matters  the  powers  lawfully  set  over  them.  What  the  English 
divines  taught  was  the  Divine  right  of  princes,  and  the  subjects’ 
duty  of  non-resistance.  In  the  great  battle  which  was  being 
fought  out  in  England  between  arbitrary  power  and  freedom,  they 
threw  the  whole  weight  of  the  English  Church  on  the  side  of  the 
former.  It  was  a  fatal  error  as  a  matter  of  policy,  for  it  was  the 
losing  side.  But  what  is  hardly  sufficiently  realized,  it  was  most 
untrue  to  the  tradition  of  the  Church,  and  of  the  Church  in 
England. 

It  was  contrary  to  the  tradition  of  the  Church.  For  after 
the  rise  of  Christianity  to  the  high  places  of  the  world,  followed 
by  the  break-up  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  the  formation  of 
the  mediaeval  States,  weakly  knit  together  by  personal  ties,  and 
with  uncertain  claims  on  the  allegiance  of  their  subjects,  two 
new  aspects  of  the  relations  of  governors  and  governed  had  been 
brought  out  in  Christian  teaching.  First,  stress  was  laid  on  the 
duty  of  those  holding  power.  Emperors  and  kings,  magistrates 
and  officers,  who  were  Christians,  had  a  claim  for  guidance  and 
instruction  in  the  exercise  of  their  various  functions.  The  claim 
was  met  by  showing  them  that,  whatever  the  earthly  source  of 
authority  may  be,  all  just  power  is  of  God,  and  therefore  must  be 

1  Aug.,  de  Civ.  Dei,  v.  17  ;  but  cp.  De  bono  Conj.,  16,  for  a  recognition  of 
the  possibility  of  the  unjust  use  of  legitimate  power. 

2  Horn,  xxiii.  on  Rom.  xiii.  1. 


xi.  Christianity  and  Politics. 


375 


regarded,  not  as  a  privilege,  nor  as  a  personal  right,  but  as  a  trust 
to  be  undertaken  for  the  good  of  others,  and  as  a  ministry  for 
God  and  man.  Thus  a  government  which  has  for  its  aim  anything 
else  than  the  common  good  is,  properly  speaking,  not  a  govern¬ 
ment  at  all.  Whether  its  form  is  monarchical  or  not,  it  is  simply 
a  tyranny.1  Secondly,  the  Middle  Age  theologians  supplemented 
St.  Paul’s  teaching  by  showing  the  possible  right  of  resistance  to 
an  unlawful  government,  or  to  one  that  failed  to  perform  its  duties. 
Such  right  of  resistance  might  arise  in  two  cases  :  (i)  that  of 
unjust  acquisition  of  power,  (2)  that  of  its  unjust  use.  Unjust 
acquisition  might  take  place  in  two  ways  :  (a)  when  an  unworthy 
person  acquired  power,  but  by  legitimate  means  :  in  this  case  it 
was  the  duty  of  subjects  to  submit,  because  the  form  of  power 
came  from  God  ;  ( l '?)  when  power  was  acquired  by  force  or  fraud  : 
in  this  case,  subjects  had  the  right  to  depose  the  ruler,  if  they  had 
the  power,  supposing,  however,  that  the  illegitimate  assumption  of 
power  had  not  been  legitimated  by  subsequent  consent.  Unjust 
use  might  also  take  place  in  two  ways  :  (a)  when  the  ruler  com¬ 
manded  something  contrary  to  virtue,  in  which  case  it  was  a  duty 
to  disobey ;  or  (&)  when  he  went  outside  his  rights,  in  which  case 
subjects  were  not  bound  to  obey,  but  it  was  not  necessarily  their 
duty  to  disobey.  And  so  cases  might  arise  in  which  it  was  lawful 
to  enfranchise  oneself,  even  from  a  legitimate  power.  ‘Some  who 
have  received  power  from  God,  yet  if  they  abuse  it,  deserve  to 
have  it  taken  from  them.  Both  the  one  and  the  other  come  of 
God.’2 

Nor  was  the  political  teaching  of  the  Caroline  divines  in 
agreement  with  the  tradition  of  the  Church  in  England.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  go  back  to  the  great  Archbishops  who  led,  in  earlier 
days,  the  struggle  for  English  freedom.  It  is  sufficient  to  recur  to 
the  teaching  of  the  greatest  of  English  post-Reformation  theolo¬ 
gians,  at  once  soaked  through  and  through  with  the  spirit  of 
Catholic  antiquity,  and  in  complete  agreement  with  the  English 
Reformation  settlement.  Richard  Hooker  had  no  sympathy  with 
that  doctrine  of  Divine  right  which  his  mediaeval  masters  looked 
upon  as  a  quasi-heretical  doctrine.3  He  found  the  first  origin  of 

1  Tyrannicide  was  defended  by  some  of  the  more  extreme  opponents  of 
the  temporal  power,  like  John  of  Salisbury,  the  secretary  of  Thomas  Becket 
(Policraticus,  viii.  17:  ‘  Tyrannus  pravitatis  imago;  plerumque  etiam  occi- 
dendus’).  But  it  was  condemned  by  the  sounder  judgment  of  Aquinas  (De 
Reg.  Princ.,  i.  6 :  ‘  Hoc  apostolicae  doctrinae  non  congruit’). 

2  Thomas  Aquinas,  Comm.  Sent.,  xliv.  q.  2  a.  2  ;  q.  I  a.  2.  In  Comm. 
Pol.,  v.  1,  §  2,  he  goes  so  far  as  to  make  insurrection  in  certain  cases  a  duty. 

3  Janet,  Histoire  de  la  Science  politique,  third  edition,  1S87,  i.  330. 


376  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

government  in  the  consent  of  the  governed,  and  he  anticipates 
Hobbes  and  Locke  in  his  account  of  the  ‘  first  original  convey¬ 
ance,  when  power  was  derived  from  the  whole  into  one/  1  Further, 
he  points  out  that  the  king’s  power  is  strictly  limited  (except  in  the 
case  of  conquest  or  of  special  appointment  by  God),  not  only  by 
the  original  compact,  but  also  by  after-agreement  made  with  the 
king’s  consent  or  silent  allowance.2  And  men  are  not  bound 
in  conscience  to  obey  such  usurpers  ‘as  in  the  exercise  of  their 
power  do  more  than  they  have  been  authorized  to  do.’ 3  But 
on  the  other  hand,  he  maintains  strongly,  as  against  those  who 
thought  that  human  laws  could  in  no  sort  touch  the  conscience, 
the  duty  of  civil  obedience  in  agreement  with  the  law  of  God, 
and  the  sacredness,  the  ‘  Divine  institution,’  of  duly  constituted 
authority,  whether  ‘  God  Himself  doth  deliver,  or  men  by  light  of 
nature  find  out  the  kind  thereof.’ 

Thus,  the  main  points  which  have  been  brought  out  by  Christian 
teaching  as  to  the  relation  of  Christian  citizens  to  the  civil 
authority  are:  (1)  first  and  foremost,  the  duty  of  obedience  for 
conscience’  sake,  —  a  duty  which  stands  on  the  same  level,  and  is 
invested  with  the  same  sanctions,  as  the  most  sacred  claims ; 

(2)  the  duty,  in  case  of  the  civil  authority  issuing  commands 
contrary  to  virtue  or  religion,  of  disobedience  on  the  same 
grounds  as  those  which  lead  to  obedience  in  the  former  case ; 

(3)  the  duty  of  those  wielding  authority  to  use  it  for  the  common 
good,  and  so  as  not  to  hinder,  if  they  cannot  promote,  the 
Christian  religion ;  (4)  the  right,  which  may  be  said  in  certain 
extreme  cases  to  rise  almost  to  a  duty,  of  resistance  to  the  arbitrary 
or  unconstitutional  extension  of  authority  to  cases  outside  its 
province. 

The  same  emphasis  on  higher  motives  is  characteristic  of  Chris¬ 
tian  treatment  of  the  questions  connected  with  property.  Chris¬ 
tianity  is  certainly  not  pledged  to  uphold  any  particular  form  of 
property  as  such.  Whether  property  had  better  be  held  by 
individuals,  or  by  small  groups,  as  in  the  case  of  the  primitive 
Teutonic  villages,  or  of  the  modern  Russian  or  Indian  village 
communities,  or  again  by  the  State,  as  is  the  proposal  of  Socialists, 
is  a  matter  for  experience  and  common-sense  to  decide.  But 
where  Christian  ethics  steps  in  is,  firstly,  to  show  that  property  is 
secondary,  not  primary,  a  means,  and  not  an  end.  Thus,  in  so 

1  Hooker,  Eccl.  Pol.,  VIII.  ii.  5,  9.  Cp.  I.  x.  4. 

2  Eccl.  Pol.,  VIII.  ii.  11. 

3  Eccl.  Pol.,  VIII.  App.  No  I.  (ed.  Keble)  Cp  I.  x.  8. 


xi.  Christianity  and  Politics. 


377 


far  as  Socialism  looks  to  the  moral  regeneration  of  society  by  a 
merely  mechanical  alteration  of  the  distribution  of  the  products  of 
industry  or  of  the  mode  of  holding  property,  it  has  to  be  reminded 
that  a  change  of  heart  and  will  is  the  only  true  starting-point  of 
moral  improvement.  On  the  other  hand,  it  cannot  be  too  often 
asserted  that  the  accumulation  of  riches  is  not  in  itself  a  good  at 
all.  Neither  riches  nor  poverty  make  men  better  in  themselves. 
Their  effect  on  character  depends  on  the  use  made  of  them, 
though  no  doubt  the  responsibility  of  those  who  have  property  is 
greater,  because  they  have  one  instrument  the  more  for  the  pur¬ 
poses  of  life.  And  so,  secondly,  Christianity  urges  that  if  there  is 
private  property,  its  true  character  as  a  trust  shall  be  recognized, 
its  rights  respected,  and  its  attendant  duties  performed.  These 
truths  it  keeps  steadily  before  men’s  eyes  by  the  perpetual  object- 
lesson  of  the  life  of  the  early  Church  of  Jerusalem,  in  which  those 
who  had  property  sold  it,  and  brought  the  proceeds  and  laid  them 
at  the  Apostles’  feet,  and  distribution  was  made  unto  every  man 
according  to  his  needs,1  — an  object-lesson  enforced  and  renewed 
by  the  example  of  the  monastic  communities,  with  their  vow  of 
voluntary  poverty,  and  their  common  purse.  So  strongly  did  the 
early  Fathers  insist  on  the  duty,  almost  the  debt,  of  the  rich  to  the 
poor,  that  isolated  passages  may  be  quoted  which  read  like  a 
condemnation  of  all  private  property ; 2  but  this  was  not  their  real 
drift.  The  obligation  which  they  urged  was  the  obligation  of 
charity. 

(2)  So  far  we  have  considered  the  way  in  which  Christianity 
has  strengthened  and  defined  on  the  side  of  duty,  which  itself  is 
one  form  of  charity  or  love,  the  motives  which  make  men  good 
citizens,  good  property-holders,  and  so  has  suoplemented  the 
moral  forces  of  the  State,  by  raisins?  the  common  standard  of 
opinion  and  conviction  on  which  ultimately  all  possibility  of  State- 
action  rests.  But  the  word  1  charity  ’  is  used  not  only  in  the  wider, 
but  also  in  a  narrower  sense,  of  one  special  form  of  love,  the  love 
of  the  strong  who  stoops  to  help  the  weak. 

It  is  admitted  on  all  hands  that  charity  in  this  sense  has  been 
a  mark  of  the  Christian  type  of  character ;  but  the  uniqueness  of 
C  hristian  charity  has  probably  been  exaggerated.  The  better 
Stoics  recognized  the  active  sendee  of  mankind,  and  especially  of 

1  Acts  iv.  34,  35. 

2  Especially  in  St.  Ambrose  ;  the  passages  are  collected  in  Dubief,  Essai 
sur  les  idees  politiques  de  S.  Augustin,  18  qq,  ch.  vi.  St.  Augustine  himself 
opposed  the  obligator}’  Communism,  advocated  by  Pelagianism;  cp.  Ep.  IC7 
(ed.  Bened.)  to  Hilary,  quoted  by  Dubief. 


373 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


the  poor  and  miserable,  as  part  of  the  ideal  of  a  perfect  life. 
Their  severity  was  crossed  by  pity.  As  Seneca  puts  it  in  one 
pregnant  phrase,  they  held  that  ‘  wherever  a  man  is,  there  is  room 
for  doing  good.’ 1  And  so  Stoicism  had  its  alimentationes,  or 
homes  for  orphan  children,  its  distributions  of  grain,  its  provisions 
for  the  sick  and  for  strangers.2  Christianity  and  Stoicism,  it  may 
seem,  were  walking  along  the  same  road  ;  but  the  difference  was 
this,  ‘what  pagan  charity  was  doing  tardily,  and  as  it  were  with 
the  painful  calculation  of  old  age,  the  Church  was  doing,  almost 
without  thinking  about  it,  in  the  plenary  masterfulness  of  youth, 
because  it  was  her  very  being  thus  to  do.’ 3  She  did  it  with  all 
the  ease  and  grace  of  perfect  naturalness,  not  as  valuing  charity 
without  love,  for  ‘  if  I  bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and 
if  I  give  my  body  to  be  burned,  but  have  not  love,  it  profiteth  me 
nothing,’4  but  because  love  forthwith  blossomed  forth  into  charity. 

‘  And  the  disciples  were  called  Christians  first  in  Antioch.  And 
in  these  days  came  prophets  from  Jerusalem  unto  Antioch.  And 
there  stood  up  one  of  them  named  Agabus,  and  signified  by  the 
spirit  that  there  should  be  great  dearth  throughout  all  the  world. 

.  .  .  Then  the  disciples,  every  man  according  to  his  ability,  deter¬ 
mined  to  send  relief  unto  the  brethren  which  dwelt  in  Judaea.’ 5 

And  so  it  became  the  recognized  and  traditional  duty  of  the 
Church  to  maintain  the  cause  of  the  weak  against  the  strong,  of 
the  poor  against  the  rich,  of  the  oppressed  against  the  oppressors. 
The  Bishops  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  exercised  ‘  a  kind  of 
religious  tribunate.’ 6  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  Church  urged  on 
those  in  public  and  private  stations  the  duties  of  charity,  pity, 
humanity.  The  author  of  the  latter  part  of  the  De  Regimme 
Principumt 7  ascribed  to  St.  Thomas  Acjuinas,  lays  down  as  one  of 
the  chief  duties  of  a  king,  the  care  of  the  weak  and  the  succ  oi  of 
the  miserable.  Nor  did  the  Church  in  England  in  pre-Reforma- 
tion  times  fail  in  her  duty  in  this  respect.  She  pleaded  for  the 
manumission  or  at  least  the  humane  usage  of  the  seifs.  She 
undertook  through  her  monasteries  the  relief  of  the  poor.  Her 
prohibition  of  usury,  however  mistaken  it  may  seem  to  us,  was  a 
real  protection  to  debtors  against  one  of  the  v^orst  foims  of 


1  .Sen.,  de  vita  beata,  24.  . 

2  Uhlhorn,  Christian  Charity  in  the  Ancient  Church,  Eng.  transl 

Bk.  I.  ch.  i.  pp.  1S-21,  41,  42. 

3  Pater,  Marius  the  Epicurean,  Vol.  II.  ch.  xxii.  p.  127. 

4  I  Cor.  xiii.  3  (R.  V.). 

5  Acts  xi.  26-29;  cp.  also  Acts  iv.  34>  35?  quoted  above. 

6  Dubief,  p.  11. 

1  T  IS- 


1883, 


xi.  Christianity  and  Politics. 


379 


tyranny,  that  of  the  unscrupulous  creditor.  Since  the  Reformation 
her  record  has  not  been  so  clean.  The  shock  of  the  Reformation 
left  her  weak.  The  traditional  sanctions  of  her  authority  were 
shaken.  In  the  long  struggle  of  the  seventeenth  century  her  close 
association  with  the  Stuart  cause  left  her  powerless  to  touch  the 
stronger  half  of  the  nation.  She  was  not  independent  enough  to 
act  as  arbiter,  and  in  committing  herself  without  reserve  to  oppo¬ 
sition  to  the  national  claim  for  freedom  she  was  untrue  to  her 
earlier  and  better  traditions.  At  the  same  time  allowance  must 
be  made  for  the  license,  the  disorder,  and  the  recklessness  with 
which  the  claims  of  liberty  were  associated,  and  for  the  identifica¬ 
tion  of  the  popular  party  with  views  of  religion  which,  whatever 
else  may  be  said  for  them,  are  not  those  of  the  Church.  The 
leading  Churchmen  believed  that  its  triumph  meant  the  disappear¬ 
ance  of  that  historical  Church  which  they  rightly  regarded  as  the 
only  effective  safeguard  of  English  Christianity.  After  the  Restor¬ 
ation  the  Church  was  stronger,  and  the  increase  of  strength  shows 
itself  on  the  one  side  in  greater  independence  of  the  Crown,  and 
on  the  other  in  the  outburst  of  numerous  religious  and  charitable 
societies  and  foundations.  Queen  Anne’s  Bounty  is  an  instance 
of  the  charity,  if  it  be  not  rather  the  justice,  of  one  distinguished 
daughter  of  the  Church.  The  ‘  Religious  Societies  *  which  in  a 
quiet  and  unassuming  way  were  a  great  influence  in  social  life, 
had  among  their  objects  the  visiting  and  relief  of  the  poor,  the 
apprenticing  of  the  young,  the  maintenance  of  poor  scholars  at 
the  University.  Charity  schools  were  established  throughout  the 
country :  hospitals  and  parochial  libraries  founded,  while  societies 
like  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign 
Parts,  and  the  Society  for  Promoting  Christian  Knowledge  date 
back  to  the  last  years  of  the  seventeenth  and  the  first  of  the  eigh¬ 
teenth  centuries.1  Then  as  the  Georgian  period  begins,  all  this 
vigorous  life  seems  for  a  long  period  to  die  down,  or  only  to  find 
vent  in  the  great  Wesleyan  movement  which,  beginning  within 
the  Church,  passes  out  beyond  it,  and  ultimately  becomes  stereo¬ 
typed  in  more  or  less  pronounced  separation  from  her  communion. 
It  was  the  policy  of  the  ruling  Whig  oligarchy  to  keep  down  the 
Church,  and  they  succeeded,  —  to  the  grave  loss  of  English  moral¬ 
ity.  If  in  some  degree  the  Church  in  England  at  the  present 
time  is  speaking  with  firmer  accent  on  questions  of  personal  and 
class  morality,  and  giving  more  effective  witness  against  the  luxury 
and  neglect  of  their  work-people,  which  are  the  besetting  sins  of 


1  Overton,  Life  in  the  English  Church,  1660-1714,  ch.  v. 


380  The  Religioji  of  the  Incarnation. 

the  great  English  manufacturing  classes,  it  is  due  partly  to  the 
revival  in  England  of  the  true  idea  of  the  Church  as  a  great  spirit¬ 
ual  society,  and  partly  to  the  fact  that  English  statesmen,  from 
sheer  inability,  owing  to  the  conditions  of  political  life  to  do  other¬ 
wise,  have  left  her  more  free  to  manage  her  own  business  and  to 
develop  her  mission  to  the  English  people  in  accordance  with  the 
laws  and  aspirations  of  her  own  inner  life. 

It  is  especially  necessary  in  a  great  industrial  society  such  as 
that  of  modern  England  that  the  Christian  law  of  self-sacrifice, 
which  crosses  and  modifies  the  purely  competitive  tendency  lead¬ 
ing  each  individual  to  seek  his  own  interest  and  that  of  his  family, 
should  be  strongly  and  effectively  presented.  No  doubt  it  is  true 
that  the  increased  knowledge  of  the  structure  and  laws  of  social 
life  which  we  possess,  have  made  charity  more  difficult  than  in  the 
Middle  Ages  ;  they  have  not  made  it  less  necessary,  or  a  less  essen¬ 
tial  feature  of  the  Christian  character.  And  so,  in  a  democratic 
age,  the  protection  of  the  weak  and  the  oppressed  will  take  a  dif¬ 
ferent  color.  Whether  supreme  control  is  in  the  hands  of  one  or 
many,  it  may  be  used  tyrannically.  And  the  most  effective  exercise 
of  the  tribunate  of  the  Church  will  lie  in  guarding  the  rights  of 
conscience  and  the  great  national  interest  of  religion  against  hasty 
and  unfair  pressure.  And  this  brings  us  to  our  next  point. 

(3)  The  drift  of  the  argument  has  been  to  show  the  incomplete¬ 
ness  and  inevitable  limitations  of  the  State,  considered  as  a  moral 
guide  of  the  social  life  of  mankind.  But  that  incompleteness  rises 
to  its  maximum,  those  limitations  press  most  closely  when  we  pass 
from  morality  to  religion.  If  it  is  the  highest  duty  of  the  State  to 
maintain  true  and  vital  religion,1  it  is  a  duty  which  of  itself  it  is  alto¬ 
gether  incompetent  to  perform.  If  the  experience  of  the  Middle 
Ages  showed  conclusively  that  the  subordination  of  the  State  to 
the  Church  did  not  tend  either  to  good  government,  or  to  the 
maintenance,  pure  and  undefiled,  of  the  Christian  religion,  the 
experience  of  English  post- Reformation  history  has  as  conclusively 
shown  that  the  subordination  of  the  Church  to  the  State  leads  on 
the  one  hand  to  the  secularization  of  the  Church,  and  on  the 
other  to  a  grave  danger  to  national  life,  through  the  loss  of  a 
spiritual  authority  strong  enough,  as  well  as  vigilant  and  indepen¬ 
dent  enough,  to  reprove  social  sins  and  to  call  to  account  large 
and  influential  classes.  The  conditions  under  which  the  Tudor 
idea  of  a  Christian  commonwealth  was  possible  have  passed  away, 

1  Hooker,  Eccl.  Pol.,  VIII.  i.  4.  In  all  commonwealths,  things  spiritual 
ought  above  temporal  to  be  provided  for.  And  of  things  spiritual,  the 
chiefest  is  religion.  Cp=  V.  i.  2. 


xi.  Christianity  and  Politics .  381 

and  there  seem  to  remain  two  possible  conclusions  from  the 
premises. 

The  first  is  that  it  is  expedient  in  the  interests  of  both  that 
Church  and  State  should  be  separate  from  one  another,  as,  e.  g., 
in  America,  and  left  free  to  develop,  each  on  its  own  lines,  their 
respective  missions  in  the  national  service,  - —  *  a  free  Church  in  a 
free  Stated  The  current  of  opinion  in  England  in  favor  of  disestab¬ 
lishment,  undoubtedly  a  strong,  though  probably  not  at  the  present 
time  an  increasing  one,  is  fed  from  many  smaller  streams.  There 
are  Agnostics,  who  believe  that  religion  is  the  enemy  of  progress, 
and  that  Christianity  especially  shackles  free  thought,  and  hinders 
the  advance  of  social  reformation,  and  to  whom  therefore  it  seems 
a  clear  duty  to  undermine  by  every  means  open  to  them  the  hold 
of  Christianity  on  the  centres  of  social  and  intellectual  life,  on 
schools  and  universities,  families  and  states.  They  favor  disestab¬ 
lishment  as  one  means  to  this  end.  Two  principal  causes  seem  to 
move  those  who  are  primarily  statesmen  in  the  direction  of  dis¬ 
establishment.  One  is  the  conception  of  the  State  as  the  great 
controlling  and  guiding  organization  of  human  life,1  supreme  over 
all  partial  societies  and  voluntary  associations  formed  to  guard 
parts  or  sides  of  life,  and  the  attempt  to  mould  national  life  by 
this  guiding  idea  and  its  logical  consequences.  This  attempt  is 
encouraged  by  the  extreme  simplicity  of  the  English  Constitution 
in  its  actual  working,  and  by  the  legally  unlimited  power  of  Parlia¬ 
ment.2  The  other  is  their  practical  experience  that  in  view  of 
the  divided  condition  of  English  Christianity,  the  most  stubborn 
and  intractable  difficulties  in  legislation  arise  from,  or  are  aggra¬ 
vated  by,  religious  differences.  They  suppose  that  these  would 
be  lessened  if  the  State  took  the  position  of  impartial  arbiter 
between  rival  denominations.  Among  Nonconformists  there  are 
no  doubt  some  who,  looking  at  the  Church  as  the  natural  rival  of 
their  own  society,  think  to  weaken  her  by  disestablishment ;  but 
there  are  also  many  who  believe  that  disestablishment  would  be  a 
gain  to  English  religion,  and  that  the  life  of  the  Church  would  be 
more  real,  more  pure,  more  governed  by  the  highest  motives,  if 

1  We  have  already  shown  reasons  for  thinking  that  though  no  doubt  the 
State  has  a  great  co-ordinating  and  regulative  function  in  regard  to  human 
life,  it  is  not  fitted  for  the  part  of  the  moral  guide  of  mankind. 

2  Dicey,  Law  of  the  Constitution,  second  edition,  1886,  lecture  ii.,  p.  36. 
‘The  principle  of  Parliamentary  sovereignty  means  neither  more  nor  less 
than  this,  namely,  that  Parliament  thus  defined  has,  under  the  English  Con¬ 
stitution,  the  right  to  make  or  unmake  any  law  whatever ;  and,  further,  that 
no  person  or  body  is  recognized  by  the  law  of  England  as  having  a  right  to 
override  or  set  aside  the  legislation  of  Parliament.’ 


382 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


she  were  freed  from  all  direct  connection  with  the  State.  Lastly, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  the  idea  of  the  return  to  the  looser  relations 
between  Church  and  State  which  prevailed  in  the  earliest  Christian 
centuries,  has  a  great  attraction  for  a  considerable  body  of  Church¬ 
men.  They  would  perhaps  have  been  willing  enough  to  accept 
the  royal  supremacy  under  a  religious  sovereign  in  thorough  har¬ 
mony  with  the  beliefs  and  modes  of  working  of  the  Church,  but 
the  revolution  by  which  the  House  of  Commons  has  risen  to 
supreme  power  in  England,  has  given  it,  not  in  the  theory,  but  in 
the  actual  working  of  the  constitution,  the  ultimate  control  over 
matters  ecclesiastical  as  well  as  civil,  and  they  hold  that  by  stifling 
the  free  utterance  of  the  voice  of  the  Church  the  House  of  Com¬ 
mons  is  doing  an  injury  to  religion  compared  to  which  disestab¬ 
lishment  would  be  a  lesser  evil. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  we  look  beyond  our  own  country,  we 
have  the  opinion  of  the  venerable  Dr.  Dollinger,  reported  by 
Dr.  Liddon,  that  the  disestablishment  of  the  Church  in  England 
would  be  an  injury  to  the  cause  of  religion  throughout  Europe. 
And  so  weighty  an  opinion  may  well  make  us  carefully  scrutinize 
those  difficulties  and  tendencies  which  make  for  disestablishment. 
It  is  no  doubt  true  that  from  one  point  of  view  the  idea  of  the 
Church  as  a  great  spiritual  society  seems  to  require  her  entire 
freedom  to  control  her  own  development,  and  therefore  the 
absence  of  all  formal  connection  with  the  State.  But  there  is 
nothing  more  deeply  illogical  and  irrational,  in  any  sense  of 
logic  in  which  it  is  near  to  life  and  therefore  true,  than  the 
attempt  to  solve  a  great  problem,  spiritual,  moral,  political,  social, 
by  neglecting  all  its  factors  but  one,  even  if  it  be  the  most 
important  one.  Nor  does  jt  follow  that,  because  we  recognize 
that  in  a  certain  condition  of  things,  more  harm  than  good  will 
be  done  by  a  particular  application  of  a  truth  which  we  accept, 
therefore  we  have  ceased  to  hold  that  truth.  It  only  shows  that 
our  ideal  is  complex. 

And  so  from  another  point  of  view  the  most  perfect  ordering  of 
things  would  seem  to  be  one  in  which  Church  and  State  were  two 
parts  of  one  whole,  recognizing  one  another’s  functions  and  limits, 
and  mutually  supporting  one  another.  Thus  religion  would  be 
put  in  its  true  place  as  at  once  the  foundation  and  the  coping- 
stone  of  national  life.  And  the  State  with  all  its  administration 
would  be  given  a  distinctly  Christian  character.  The  difficulty  in 
England  is  to  maintain  this  point  of  view  in  connection  with  the 
increasingly  non-religious  (not  necessarily  anti-religious)  coloring  of 
the  State,  and  of  the  fierce  struggles  of  party  government,  which 


xi.  Christianity  and  Politics. 


333 


destroy  the  reverence  which  might  otherwise  attach  to  the  State 
and  its  organs.  As  the  State  has  become  increasingly  lay,  its 
moral  weight  has  sunk,  its  hold  on  consciences  become  less.  But 
the  truth  remains  that  religion  is  an  element  in  the  highest  national 
life.  ‘  A  national  Church  alone  can  consecrate  the  whole  life  of 
a  people.’ 1 2 3  And  a  national  Church  can  only  mean  an  established 
Church,  and  a  Church  which  either  has  great  inherited  wealth  of 
its  own,  or  is  supported  in  part  by  national  funds.  4 * * *  Of  all  parts 
of  this  subject,’  says  Mr.  Gladstone,2  4  probably  none  have  been 
so  thoroughly  wrought  out  as  the  insufficiency  of  the  voluntary 
principle.’  It  is  insufficient  (/.  <?.,  for  maintaining  national  religion), 
first,  because  after  a  certain  level  of  moral  deterioration  has  been 
reached  by  individuals  or  masses  of  people,  the  demand  for 
religion  is  least  where  the  want  is  greatest ;  and  secondly,  because 
in  consequence  of  the  structure  of  social  life  there  are  always  large 
classes  of  the  community  who,  while  just  provided  with  the  bare 
necessaries  of  life,  have  not  sufficient  means  to  enable  them  to 
sustain  the  expense  of  the  organs  of  the  higher  life  in  any  form. 
We  recognize  this  in  the  case  of  education ;  we  can  hardly  refuse 
to  recognize  it  in  the  case  of  religion. 

For  these  reasons  we  are  thrown  back  on  the  second  possible 
conclusion  from  the  data,  viz.,  that  it  is  desirable  that  there  should 
be  some  definite  and  permanent  connection  between  Church  and 
State,  but  not  such  connection  as  will  either  subordinate  the  State 
to  the  Church,  or  the  Church  to  the  State.  And  such  a  result 
would  seem  to  be  best  attainable  by  some  such  system  of  relations 
as  that  between  the  Established  Church  and  the  State  in  Scotland, 
or  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  and  the  State  in  France.  Thus  in 
Scotland,  on  the  critical  point  of  jurisdiction,  the  position  is  this. 
The  Church  Courts  are  final ;  there  is  no  appeal  to  a  Civil  Court 
except  on  the  ground  of  excess  of  jurisdiction.  And  the  judgment 
of  the  Church  Courts,  so  far  as  it  involves  civil  consequences,  may 
be  enforced  by  application  to  the  Civil  Courts.8  In  France  we 

1  Westcott,  Social  Aspects  of  Christianity,  ch.  v.  p.  76. 

2  The  State  in  its  Relations  with  the  Church,  p.  41. 

3  Report  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Courts  Commission,  ii.  601.  Answers  to 
questions, —  Scotland,  Established  Church. 

‘No  appeal  lies  to  a  Civil  Court  in  matters  of  discipline  or  on  the  ground 

of  excess  of  punishment.  But  if  under  the  form  of  discipline  the  Church 

Courts  were  to  inflict  Church  censures  (involving  civil  consequences)  on  a 
minister  for  e.  g.  obeying  the  law  of  the  land,  a  question  .  .  .  might  be 
brought  before  the  Civil  Court  on  the  ground  of  excess  of  jurisdiction.  It  is 

believed  that  in  no  case  would  the  Civil  Court  entertain  an  appeal  from  a 

judgment  of  an  Ecclesiastical  Court  on  a  question  of  doctrine,  or  enter  on  an 


384  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

have  to  distinguish  the  relations  of  Church  and  State  as  constitu¬ 
tionally  defined  from  those  relations  in  their  actual  working.  No 
constitutional  relations,  however  admirable,  can  work  when  the 
State  constantly  encroaches,  and  where  its  whole  attitude  is  one  of 
hostility  to  the  Church.  In  theory,  however,  the  position  in  France 
is,  except  on  one  point,  much  the  same  as  in  Scotland.  There  is 
a  complete  system  of  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction  in  the  Roman  Cath¬ 
olic  Church  based  on  the  Canon  Law  and  administered  by  the 
bishops  acting  as  judges.  From  their  decisions  there  is  no  appeal* 
to  the  Civil  Courts  except  on  the  ground  of  abuse  ( appel  d'abus ). 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Ecclesiastical  Courts  have  no  coercive  jur¬ 
isdiction,  nor  are  their  sentences  carried  out  by  the  Civil  Courts.1 
They  bind,  therefore,  only  in  foro  conscientice ,  and  this  is  found 
sufficient.  There  is  one  point  worthy  of  special  notice  in  the 
French  system,  that  while  the  relations  of  the  State  to  the  Roman 
patholic  (once  the  Gallican)  Church  are  regulated  by  a  special 
Concordat,  two  leading  Protestant  bodies,  the  French  Reformed 
Church  and  .the  Church  of  the  Augsburg  Confession,  as  well  as 
the  Jewish  body,  are  also  endowed.  Alongside  of  a  system  by 
which  the  Church  is  established  there  is  a  concurrent  endowment 
of  other  Christian  and  even  non-Christian  denominations. 

In  Scotland  the  relations  of  Church  and  State  rest  on  the  Act  of 
Union,  in  France  on  the  Concordat  made  by  Napoleon  with  the 
Pope  in  1801.  In  England  there  is  no  definite  formulated  agree¬ 
ment  ;  and  any  such  agreement  would  be  entirely  contrary  to  the 
English  genius.  But  in  a  deeper  sense,  there  is  a  contract,  which 
is  the  product  of  1200  years  of  history,  of  which  the  terms  vary 
from  generation  to  generation,  and  which  is  commended  by  each 
age  to  the  forbearance  and  the  statesmanship  of  its  successors. 

examination  of  the  soundness  of  such  a  judgment  before  enforcing  its  civil 
consequences. 

‘  Any  questions  which  have  arisen  on  points  of  ritual  .  .  .  have  hitherto 
been  decided  exclusively  by  the  Church  Courts.’  (A  qualifying  sentence 
follows  as  to  possible  extreme  cases  justifying,  on  the  failure  to  obtain  re¬ 
dress  from  the  General  Assembly,  an  appeal  to  the  Civil  Court.) 

1  Report  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Courts  Commission,  ii.  605.  Answers  to 
questions,  —  France. 

*  The  State  remains  lay ,  and  does  not  interpose,  except  when  the  acts  of 
the  clergy  are  offences  at  Common  Law,  or  when  there  is  a  cas  <d abus  in  which 
either  the  public  order  or  individual  interests  are  injured.  In  which  case 
the  Council  of  State  is  summoned  at  the  instance  of  the  Government,  or  on 
the  complaint  of  the  citizens,  to  repress  abuses  and  annul  the  acts  of  abuse 
[actes  d’abus)  on  the  part  of  the  clergy. 

‘  To  recapitulate,  the  minister,  as  citizen,  has  to  submit  to  the  Common 
Law  ;  as  priest,  he  belongs  entirely  to  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Church,  with 
which  the  State  docs  not  interfere ,  and  with  which  it  has  not  to  interfere, 
for  it  is  solely  in  the  domain  of  conscience.’ 


xi.  Christianity  and  Politics. 


335 


The  terms  of  that  contract  are  in  the  main  fixed  by  the  State.  In 
any  case,  whether  the  Church  remains  established  or  not,  the  State 
has  ultimate  power  over  her  temporal  possessions,  as  over  all  tem¬ 
poral  possessions  held  within  its  territory.  But  if  the  Church  is  to 
remain  connected  with  the  State,  perpetual  difficulties  must  arise, 
unless  means  are  found  to  leave  the  Church  free,  in  matters  as 
well  of  doctrine  as  of  ritual,  both  to  legislate  through  her  own  or¬ 
gans,  and  to  exercise  an  independent  spiritual  jurisdiction.  It  is 
for  the  interest  of  the  State  that  the  Church  should  be  allowed  to 
make  her  service  for  the  English  nation  as  fruitful,  as  powerful,  and 
as  little  a  hindrance  to  her  own  spirituality  as  possible. 

III.  Lastly,  we  may  consider  the  way  in  which  the  Church, 
quite  irrespective  of  any  direct  connection  with  the  State,  as  a  nat¬ 
ural  consequence  of  its  position  as  a  spiritual  society  and  of  its 
teaching  as  to  fundamental  moral  and  spiritual  truths,  acts  as  a 
purifying  and  elevating  agent  on  the  general  social  life  of  mankind, 
on  all  its  manifestations  and  organs. 

If  man  is  ‘  metaphysical  nolens  nolens]  it  is  equally  true  that  he 
is  metapolitical,  to  use  Martensen’s  happy  word,  nolens  nolens. 
And  metapolitic  means  ‘  that  which  precedes  the  political  as  its 
presupposition,  that  which  lies  outside  and  beyond  it  as  its  aim  and 
object,  and  by  which  the  political  element  is  to  be  pervaded  as  by  its 
soul,  its  intellectually  vivifying  principle.1  Every  statesman,  every 
real  leader  of  men,  has,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  such  a  meta¬ 
politic  ;  he  holds,  that  is,  certain  views  as  to  man’s  place  in  the 
world,  as  to  the  meaning  and  possibility  of  progress,  as  to  the  aims 
as  distinct  from  the  machinery  of  government,  as  to  the  relations  of 
„  nations  to  one  another  and  to  humanity,  which  determine  his  gen¬ 
eral  attitude  towards  all  kinds  of  questions  with  which  he  has  to 
deal.  It  is  clear,  for  instance,  that  the  groups  of  ideas  which  gov¬ 
ern  the  fatalist,  the  pessimist,  and  the  humanitarian,  are  widely 
different. 

Now  the  Church  is  the  home  and  dwelling-place  of  certain  great 
regulative  ideas  as  to  man’s  destiny  and  function,  and  his  relation 
to  God  and  other  men,  the  treasure-house  to  which  they  were  com¬ 
mitted,  or  the  soil  in  which  they  germinated.  These  ideas,  if 
accepted  and  acted  on,  or  so  far  as  accepted  and  acted  on,  must 
transform  and  remodel,  not  only  the  inward  life,  but  also  the  whole 
outward  life  in  all  its  spheres.  Thus  St.  Paul  deduces  from  the 
Christian  conception  of  man  the  duties  of  husbands,  wives,  fathers, 
children,  masters,  servants,  subjects,  rich  persons,  old  men,  old 

1  Martensen,  Christian  Ethics,  special  part,  second  division,  English 
Translation,  p.  100. 


25 


386 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


women,  young  men,  young  women.  And  so,  now  rapidly,  now 
slowly,  according  to  the  vigor  and  purity  at  successive  periods  of  the 
Christian  society,  now  thrown  inwards  by  periods  of  persecution  or 
by  the  rising  tide  of  evil,  now  borne  outwards  in  periods  of  rapid 
expansion  and  missionary  enterprise,  now  brought  to  bear  on  new 
conditions  of  life  and  new  social  groupings,  now  traced  back  to 
their  source,  and  tested  by  the  life  and  words  of  the  Word  of  God, 
the  Christian  ideas  of  man,  and  of  his  relation  to  God,  radiate 
through  the  life  of  mankind,  at  once  sustaining  and  correcting  its 
aspirations  and  its  ideals  of  righteousness. 

The  root  ideas  of  this  Christian  anthropology  rest  on  the  Chris¬ 
tian  conception  of  God  as  one  yet  threefold.  Thus  on  the  one 
side,  Christianity  attaches  to  the  individual  personality  a  supreme 
and  infinite  value  as  the  inmost  nature  of  one  made  in  the  image 
of  God,  redeemed  by  the  self-sacrifice  of  Christ,  and  indwelt  by 
the  Spirit  of  God.  And  thus  it  develops  the  sense  of  separate  per¬ 
sonal  responsibility.  It  is  on  this  basis  that  what  is  true  in  human- 
itarianism  rests.  Behind  all  class  and  social  differences  lies  the 
human  personality  in  virtue  of  which  all  men  are  equal.1  But  on 
the  other  side  it  frankly  recognizes  man’s  inherently  social  nature. 
It  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone.  And  family,  State,  and  the 
Church  on  earth  are  training  places  for  a  perfected  common  life  in 
the  City  of  God. 

The  effect  of  this  conception  of  man  and  his  destiny  is  to  place 
the  State  and  its  associations  in  their  true  position  as  not  ultimate, 
but  secondary,  as  means,  and  not  ends.  Alongside  of  the  earthly 
kingdom,  with  its  wealth,  its  honors,  its  ambitions,  its  wide  and  far- 
reaching  influence,  it  sets  another  kingdom,  the  City  of  God,  with 
its  own  standards,  its  own  principles,  its  own  glory,  its  own  blessed¬ 
ness,  as  the  end  of  mankind,  the  goal  of  history.  ‘The  nations 
shall  walk  amidst  the  light  thereof,  and  the  kings  of  the  earth  do 
bring  their  glory  into  it.’2  And,  in  so  doing,  it  judges  and  corrects 
the  splendor  of  earthly  States. 

In  thus  contrasting  the  earthly  State  with  the  City  of  God,  Chris¬ 
tianity  is  no  doubt  exposed  to  the  old  accusation,  that  it  makes 
men  bad  citizens.  And  the  old  answer  is  still  true,  ‘  let  those  who 
think  that  the  doctrine  of  Jesus  Christ  cannot  contribute  to  the  hap¬ 
piness  of  the  State,  give  us  soldiers  and  officers  such  as  it  bids  them 
to  be,  subjects  and  citizens  as  faithful  as  Jesus  Christ  commands, 
husbands,  wives,  fathers,  mothers,  children,  masters,  servants,  kings, 

1  Cp.  Aug.,  de  Civ.  Dei,  v.  24,  of  Christian  Emperors,  ‘we  think  them 
happy  if  they  remember  themselves  to  be  men' 

2  Rev.  xxi.  24  (R.  V.). 


xi.  Christianity  and  Politics. 


38; 


judges,  living  according  to  the  laws  of  religion,  men  as  punctual  in 
their  payment  of  taxes,  as  pure  in  their  handling  of  public  funds  as 
are  the  true  Christians  :  they  will  be  soon  forced  to  admit  that  the 
maxims  of  the  Gospel  when  practised  cannot  but  give  a  State  great 
happiness  and  great  prosperity.’ 1  It  is  not  too  much,  but  too  little 
Christianity  which  destroys  States ;  for  passion  and  wilfulness  are 
the  great  disintegrating  forces  of  the  world,  and  everything  which 
strengthens  individuals  to  resist  them,  so  far  strengthens  the  bonds 
of  social  union.  But  the  service  which  Christianity  renders  to 
States  goes  far  beyond  this  negative  result.  If  the  true  meaning  of 
progress  be  moral,  and  not  material,  there  can  be  no  greater  con¬ 
tribution  to  the  well-being  of  society  than  that  of  maintaining  the 
Christian  type  of  character  with  its  humility,  its  purity,  its  sincerity, 
and  again  its  strong  and  beneficent  activity. 

In  the  present  discussion  the  State  has  been  put  first,  and  the 
Church  second.  In  order  of  time  the  State  is  first.  And  what 
has  been  attempted  has  been  to  show  how  starting  with  the  State 
and  its  institutions,  the  higher  order  which  was  initiated  by  the 
historical  Incarnation  (though  not  without  preparatory  and  imper¬ 
fect  anticipations  in  earlier  and  especially  in  Jewish  history),  comes 
in  to  mould,  to  purify,  and  to  supplement.  But  these  words  only 
express  partial  aspects  of  the  whole  process  by  which  a  higher 
order  acts  on  a  lower.  It  interpenetrates  far  more  deeply  than 
can  be  expressed  in  any  classification  of  the  modes  of  its  opera¬ 
tion.  The  Christian  religion  has  been  acting  on  the  group  of 
States  which  we  call  Christendom  from  the  first  days  when  stable 
organizations  formed  themselves  after  the  entrance  of  the  new  life 
of  the  Germanic  races  into  the  remains  of  the  dying  Roman 
Empire.  It  has  been  the  strongest  of  all  the  influences  that  have 
moulded  them  throughout  their  history.  It  has  pierced  and  pene¬ 
trated  the  life  of  individuals,  the  life  of  families,  the  life  of  guilds, 
as  well  as  the  laws  and  institutions,  the  writings  and  works  of  art 
in  which  they  have  embodied  their  thoughts  and  hopes.  They  are 
in  a  sense  its  children.  It  is  impossible  to  regard  them  as  St. 
Augustine  regarded  pagan  Rome.  But  deep  and  penetrating  as 
has  been  her  influence  and  manifold  her  consequent  implications 
with  the  existing  national  and  social  life  of  mankind,  the  Church 
is  essentially  Catholic,  and  only  incidentally  national.  It  is  their 
Catholic  character  so  far  as  it  remains,  at  least  their  Catholic  ideal, 
which  gives  to  the  different  fragments  of  the  Church  their  strength 
and  power.  The  ‘  Church  of  England  ’  is  a  peculiarly  misleading 
term.  The  Church  of  Christ  in  England  is,  as  Coleridge  pointed 

1  Aug.,  Ep.  ad  Marcellinum,  138,  15. 


388 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


out,  the  safer  and  truer  phrase.  And  this  fundamental  Catholicism, 
this  correspondence  not  to  one  or  another  nation,  but  to  humanity, 
rests  on  the  appeal  to  deeper  and  more  permanent  needs  than 
those  on  which  the  State  rests.  It  is  thus  that  the  true  type  of  the 
Church  is  rather  in  the  family  than  in  the  State,  because  the  family 
is  the  primitive  unit  of  organized  social  life.  Not  in  the  order  of 
time,  but  in  the  order  of  reason,  the  Church  is  prior  to  the  State, 
for  man  is  at  once  inherently  social  and  inherently  religious.  And 
therefore  it  is  only  in  the  Church  that  he  can  be  all  that  it  is  his 
true  nature  to  be. 


XII. 


CHRISTIAN  ETHICS. 
- ♦ - 


ROBERT  OTTLEY. 


XII. 


CHRISTIAN  ETHICS. 


The  study  of  early  Church  History  suggests  the  conclusion  that 
the  Christian  religion  was  recognized  as  a  rule,  or  fashion  of  life, 
before  it  was  discovered  to  be  a  philosophy  and  a  creed.  To  be 
complete,  therefore,  any  account  of  Christianity  must  include  the 
presentation  of  it  as  a  Divine  4  way  of  life,’  —  a  coherent  system 
of  practical  ethics,  marked  by  characteristic  conceptions  of  free¬ 
dom.  duty,  the  moral  standard,  the  highest  end  of  life,  and  the 
conditions  of  human  perfection.  Such  is  the  task  we  are  about  to 
attempt.  To  the  necessary  limitations  of  a  sketch  in  outline,  the 
reader  may  ascribe  a  general  avoidance  of  controversial,  and  a 
preference  for  positive,  statements  ;  as  also  the  fact  that  some  large 
and  interesting  branches  of  the  subject  are  dismissed  with  no  more 
than  a  passing  allusion. 

It  may  be  admitted,  at  the  outset,  that  non -religious  ethical 
speculation  has  in  a  measure  paved  the  way  for  a  re-statement  of 
the  Christian  theory,  by  its  inquiries  into  the  source  and  nature  — 
the  rational  basis  and  binding  force  —  of  moral  obligation.  For  it 
may  be  maintained  that  in  Christianity,  rightly  understood,  is  to  be 
found  an  adequate  answer  to  the  question  which  all  schools  of 
thought  agree  in  regarding  as  fundamental,  —  the  question  4  Why 
must  I  do  right?’ 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Christian  Church  claims  to  meet  the 
plain  needs  of  average  human  nature  by  her  answer  to  the  ques¬ 
tion,  ‘How  am  I  to  do  right?’  She  claims  to  have  at  command 
practical  means  of  solving  a  problem  which  is  admittedly  aban¬ 
doned  as  hopeless  by  the  ethics  of  naturalism.  If  Jesus  Christ 
gave  profound  extension  to  the  ideas  of  duty  and  obligation,  He 
was  also  the  first  Who  pointed  humanity  to  the  unfailing  source  of 
moral  power.  In  this  respect  Christianity  presents  a  favorable 
contrast  to  other  systems,  the  tendency  of  which  is  to  be  so  con¬ 
cerned  with  the  Ideal  as  to  underrate  the  importance  and  pressure 
of  the  Actual.  Christianity  claims  to  be  in  contact  with  facts,  — ■ 


392 


The  Religio7i  of  the  Incarnation . 


such  facts  as  sin,  moral  impotence,  perverted  will,  the  tyranny  of 
habit.  And  while  she  is  large-hearted  and  eagle-spirited  in  her 
scope,  —  dealing  with  all  possible  relationships  in  which  a  human 
being  may  stand,  whether  to  God  above  him,  his  fellow-men 
about  him,  or  the  sum  of  physical  life  below  him,  —  the  Church  is 
none  the  less  definite  and  practical  in  method  and  aim  ;  witness 
the  importance  she  attaches  to  the  individual  character,  the  re-crea¬ 
tion  of  which  is  at  least  a  step  towards  a  regeneration  of  society. 

The  chief  point  of  distinction,  however,  between  Christian  and 
non-Christian  ethics  is  to  be  found  in  a  difference  of  view  as  to  the 
relation  existing  between  morality  and  religion.  A  system  which  so 
closely  connects  the  idea  of  Good  with  the  doctrine  of  Cod,  must 
needs  at  every  point  present  conduct  as  inseparably  related  to  truth, 
and  character  to  creed.  It  has  been  noticed  indeed  that  Pliny’s 
letter  to  Trajan —  the  earliest  record  we  possess  of  the  impression 
produced  on  an  intelligent  Pagan  by  the  new  religion  —  testifies  to 
the  intimate  connection  of  morals  with  dogma  and  worship.  What 
the  Christian  consciousness  accepted  as  truth  for  the  intellect,  it 
embraced  also  as  law  for  the  will.  Whether,  then,  we  have  regard 
to  the  practical  purpose,  or  the  wide  outlook  of  the  Christian 
system,  we  shall  feel  the  difficulty  of  giving  even  a  fair  outline  of 
so  vast  a  subject  in  so  limited  a  space.  If  the  idea  of  Good  cor¬ 
responds  in  any  sense  to  the  conception  of  God,  that  idea  must 
have  an  infinite  depth  of  significance,  and  range  of  application. 
If  the  re-creation  of  human  nature  be  a  practicable  aim,  no  depart¬ 
ment  of  anthropology  or  psychology  can  be  without  its  interest  for 
ethics.  It  must  suffice  to  indicate,  rather  than  unfold,  the  points 
which  seem  to  be  of  primary  importance. 

Christian  Morals  are  based  on  dogmatic  postulates.  The  founda¬ 
tion  of  our  science  is  laid,  not  merely  in  the  study  of  man’s  nature, 
his  functions  and  capacities,  but  in  revealed  truths  as  to  the  nature 
and  character  of  God,  His  creative  purpose,  His  requirement  of 
His  creatures.  We  believe  that  Christ  came  to  liberate  human 
thought  from  systems  of  morality  having  their  centre  or  source  in 
man.1 

‘  Man  is  not  God,  but  hath  God’s  end  to  serve ; 

A  Master  to  obey,  a  course  to  take, 

Somewhat  to  cast  off,  somewhat  to  become.  .  .  . 

How  could  man  have  progression  otherwise  ?* 

The  postulates  may  conveniently  be  distributed  under  three  main 
heads,  —  the  doctrine  of  God,  of  Man,  of  Christ. 


1  I  St.  Pet.  i.  21 :  &<rr€  t)]v  ttIctiv  v/xwv  ical  iAntda  eluai  €ts  9e6v. 


XII.  Christian  Ethics, 


393 

For  the  purpose  of  ethics,  two  simple  truths  as  to  the  Being  of 
God  require  attention. 

God  is  an  Infinite,  but  Personal  Being,  existing  from  eternity  in 
the  completeness  of  His  own  blessedness,  yet  willing  to  become  the 
centre  of  a  realm  of  personalities.  To  this  end  He  called  into 
existence  a  world  of  personal  beings,  in  a  sense  independent  of 
Himself,  but  destined,  in  communion  and  intercourse  with  Him¬ 
self,  to  find  and  fulfil  the  law  of  their  creaturely  perfection.  To 
these  free  and  rational  beings,  Almighty  God  deigns  to  stand  in 
self-imposed  relations. 

Again,  God  is  an  Ethical  Being ;  He  is  essentially  Holy  and 
Loving. 

He  is  Holy,  and  appoints  that  for  the  entire  realm  of  person¬ 
ality,  as  for  Himself,  holiness  should  be  the  absolute  law.  He 
alone  can  communicate  to  His  creatures  the  idea  of  holiness ;  of  a 
supreme,  eternal,  ethical  Good.  The  Good  exists  only  in  Him, 
is  the  essential  expression  of  His  Nature,  the  reflected  light  of 
His  Personality.  The  idea  of  ethical  Good  is  not  therefore  due 
to  a  natural  process  by  which  the  accumulated  social  traditions  of 
our  race  are  invested  with  the  name,  and  sanction,  of  moral  Law. 
The  idea  is  communicated,  derived  from  the  living  Source  of  Good 
freely  acting  on  the  faculties  of  intelligent  creatures  who  are  capa¬ 
ble  of  receiving  such  communications  ‘in  divers  parts  and  in  divers 
manners.’ 1 

The  apprehension  of  moral  Law  thus  appears  to  correspond  with 
a  progressive  apprehension  of  God.  Along  with  the  idea  of  the 
unity  and  absoluteness  of  God,  heathendom  lost  the  sense  of  an 
absolute  moral  Law ;  2  and  conversely,  in  proportion  as  the  Divine 
Nature  manifests  Itself  more  fully  to  human  intelligence,  the  idea 
of  moral  Good  gains  expansion  and  depth. 

God  is  also  Love  :  a  truth  which  as  it  helps  our  thought  to  a 
more  profound  and  consistent  view  of  His  mysterious  Being,  so 
implies  that  God  must  needs  will  His  rational  creature  to  be  what 
He  Himself  is,  ‘  holy  and  blameless  before  Him  ;  ’ 3  to  engage  itself 
in  activities  resembling  His  own ;  to  be  free  with  His  Freedom, 
enlightened  by  His  Light.4  Nor  can  we  think  that  Divine  Love  is 
content  with  a  bare  revelation  of  moral  requirement.  We  believe 
that  what  God  requires,  He  is  ready  and  able  to  impart;  He  will 
empower  man  to  render  what  His  righteousness  exacts.  Finally, 
if  His  purpose  for  man  be  interrupted  or  thwarted,  He  will  ‘devise 
means  ’  for  its  final  and  victorious  fulfilment.  He,  the  Author  of 

1  Heb.  i.  i.  2  See  Dorner,  Syst.  of  Christian  Ethics,  §  35. 

3  Eph.  i.  4.  4  Cp.  Plato,  Tim.,  xxix.  E. 


394 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


Creation,  will  in  due  time  provide  for  a  re-creation,  not  less  potent 
and  complete  in  its  effects  than  the  evil  power  which  has  invaded 
and  marred  the  first  creation.1  For  we  can  form  no  idea  of  Love 
other  than  that  of  an  active,  energizing  principle  by  which  a  per¬ 
sonal  Being  reveals  Himself;  a  Being  tenacious  of  His  purpose, 
multiform  in  His  expedients,  supremely  patient  in  His  beneficent 
activity.  The  God  presupposed  in  Christian  Ethics  is  One  Who 
displays  holiness  combined  with  power,  love  controlled  by  wisdom  ; 
in  a  word,  He  is  the  God  of  redemptive  history.  Thus  morality 
finds  its  starting-point  in  theology.2 

The  Christian  account  of  Man  next  engages  attention.  We  con¬ 
fine  ourselves  to  an  inquiry  into  three  points  :  What  is  man’s  essen¬ 
tial  nature,  his  ideal  destiny,  his  present  condition? 

We  have  already  observed  that  in  Christian  Ethics  man  is  not  the 
central  object  of  study.  The  moral  universe  tends  towards  a  more 
comprehensive  end  than  the  perfection  of  humanity.  Nevertheless, 
Christianity  is  specially  marked  by  a  particular  conception  of  man. 
Regarding  him  as  a  being  destined  for  union  with,  capable  of  like¬ 
ness  to,  God,  she  offers  an  account  of  man’s  failure  to  fulfil  his  true 
destiny,  and  witnesses  to  a  Divine  remedy  for  his  present  con¬ 
dition.  The  familiar  contrast  between  humanity  as  it  might  be¬ 
come,  and  as  it  is,  gives  significance  to  the  peculiarly  Christian 
doctrine  of  sin.  It  is  the  dignity  of  the  sufferer  that  makes  the 
mischief  so  ruinous ;  it  is  the  greatness  of  the  issue  at  stake  that 
makes  a  Divine  movement  towards  man  for  his  recovery  at  once 
credible,  and  worthy  of  God.3 

First,  then,  we  presuppose  a  certain  view  of  man’s  nature. 
Christianity  lays  stress  on  the  principle  of  personality ,  with  its  de¬ 
termining  elements,  will  and  self-consciousness.  It  is  for  psychol¬ 
ogy  to  accurately  define  personality.  For  ethics  it  is  simply  an 
ultimate,  all-important  fact.  It  is  that  element  in  man  which 
makes  him  morally  akin  to  God,  and  capable  of  holding  commu¬ 
nion  with  Him  ;  that  which  places  him  in  conscious  relation  to 
Law ;  gives  him  a  representative  character  as  God’s  vicegerent  on 
earth,  and  conveys  the  right  to  dominion  over  physical  nature.  If 
religion  consists  in  personal  relations  between  man  and  God,  reli¬ 
gious  ethics  must  be  concerned  with  the  right  culture  and  develop¬ 
ment  of  personality. 


1  Athan.,  de  Incarn.,  x. 

2  Clem.  Alex.,  Quis  Dives,  etc.,  vii. :  apxb  Ka\  leptyrrls  emo-T-finy  6eov, 

tou  outcos  ovtos  ...  7]  fxev  yap  tovtov  &yvoia  Qavaros  eanv.  rj  de  i'jnyi'wa'is 
avrov  i cal  oiKeluxris.  /ml  irpbs  avrbv  ayam)  Kal  e^opLoiwaLS,  fiovt]  £wf). 

Aug.,  de  moribus  Eccl.,  xii. 


8 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


395 


But  in  virtue  of  his  creaturely  position,  man’s  personality  cannot 
be  an  end  to  itself.1  The  tendency  of  Greek  thought  was  to  re¬ 
gard  man  as  a  self-centred  being ;  to  look  for  the  springs  of  moral 
action,  and  the  power  of  progress,  within  human  nature  itself. 
Thus  Aristotle’s  ideal  is  the  self-development  of  the  individual 
under  the  guidance  of  reason,  and  in  accordance  with  the  law  of 
his  being.  The  question  is,  what  is  this  law,  and  what  the  ground 
of  its  obligation  ?  Personality,  we  answer,  marked  man  from  the 
first  as  a  being  destined  for  communion  with,  and  free  imitation  of, 
God.2  Personality  enables  man  to  be  receptive  of  a  message  and 
a  call  from  God.  It  confers  on  each  possessor  of  it  an  absolute 
dignity  and  worth.  Pcrso?iaIity ,  —  here  is  our  crucial  fact,  ena¬ 
bling  us  to  take  a  just  measure  of  man,  and  of  our  duty  towards 
him.  One  of  the  deepest  truths  brought  to  light  by  the  Gospel 
was  the  value  of  the  personal  life,  of  the  single  soul,  in  God’s  sight. 
Man  is  great,  not  merely  because  he  thinks,  and  can  recognize 
moral  relationships  and  obligations  ;  but  chiefly  because  he  was 
created  for  union  with  God  ;  and  was  destined  to  find  blessedness 
and  perfection  in  Him  alone.  Christianity  therefore  rates  highly 
the  worth  of  the  individual ;  and  her  task  is  to  develop  each  human 
personality,  to  bring  each  into  contact  with  the  Personality  of  God.3 

For,  secondly,  man  has  an  ideal  destiny,4  —  life  in  union  with 
God,  a  destiny  which,  as  it  cannot  be  realized  under  present  con¬ 
ditions  of  existence,  postulates  the  further  truth  of  personal  immor¬ 
tality.5  Man  is  capable  of  progressive  assimilation  to  God,  of  ever 
deeper  spiritual  affinity  to  Him.6  Such  must  be  the  ideal  end  of  a 
being  of  whom  it  is  revealed  that  he  was  made  ‘  in  the  image  of 
God.’ 

But  the  thought  of  the  ‘  Divine  image  ’  leads  us  a  step  further. 
Whatever  be  the  precise  import  of  the  expression,  it  at  east  implies 
that  the  Good,  which  is  the  essence  of  the  Divine ,  is  also  a  vital 
element  in  the  perfection  of  Hmnan  nature.  It  remains  to  indi¬ 
cate  the  way  in  which  man  is  capable  of  recognizing  Good  as  the 
law  of  his  being,  and  embodying  it  in  a  character.  Christianity,  as 
a  moral  system,  offers  an  account  of  conscience  and  of  freedom. 

1  .Athan.,  cont.  Gentes,  iii.,  describes  the  aversion  of  man  from  God  as  be¬ 
ginning  in  ‘self-contemplation  ’  (eavrovs  Karavoelv  fjp^auro). 

2  Ath.,  c.  Gent.,  ii. 

3  Wace,  Boyle  Lectures,  ser.  i,  Lee.  vii.  Cp.  Col.  i.  28. 

4  2  Cor.  v.  4,  5 :  6  Karepyaadp-evos  r]pus  els  avrb  tovto  Beds. 

5  Lactant.,  Div.  Inst.,  iii.  12  :  ‘  Haec  vita  praesens  et  corporalis  beata 
esse  non  potest,  quia  malip  est  subjecta  per  corpus.  ...  Si  cadit  beatitudo , 
ergo  et  immortalitas  cadit  in  hominem,  quae  beata  est.’ 

6  Eph.,  v.  1.  Ep.,  ad  Diog.,  x. 


396 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


The  Scriptural  doctrine  of  conscience  represents  it  as  the  faculty 
which  places  man  in  conscious  relation  to  moral  Law,  as  the  ex¬ 
pression  of  the  Divine  nature  and  requirement.  In  a  brief  sketch 
it  is  enough  to  lay  stress  on  two  points. 

1.  Conscience  appears  to  be  an  original  and  constant  principle 
in  human  nature.  To  assign  to  it  a  merely  empirical  origin,  —  to 
derive  it  from  social  evolution,  from  the  circumstances,  prevalent 
beliefs,  traditional  customs  of  a  human  community,  —  is  inadequate, 
inasmuch  as  no  such  supposed  origin  will  satisfactorily  account  for 
the  authoritativeness,  the  spontaneity,  the  ‘  categorical  imperative  ’ 
of  conscience.1  Further,  the  functions  attributed  to  this  faculty  in 
Scripture,  — e.  g,  ‘  judging,’  ‘  accusing,’  1  witnessing,’  ‘  legislating,’ 
—  all  convey  the  idea  that  man  stands  in  relation  to  moral  Law  as 
something  outside,  and  independent  of,  himself,  yet  laying  an 
unconditional  claim  on  his  will.  In  the  Christian  system  the  exist¬ 
ence  of  conscience  in  some  form  is  regarded  as  a  primary  and 
universal  fact.  Its  permanent  character  is  everywhere  the  same  ; 
its  function,  that  of  persistently  witnessing  to  man  that  he  stands  in 
necessary  relation  to  ethical  Good. 

2.  The  language  of  the  Bible  throughout  implies  that  conscience 
in  its  earliest  stage  is  an  imperfect  organ,  capable  like  other  facul¬ 
ties  of  being  cultivated  and  developed.  Our  Lord’s  reference  to 
the  inward  ‘  eye  ’  (St.  Matt.  vi.  22)  suggests  a  fruitful  analogy  in 
studying  the  growth  of  conscience.  In  its  germ  conscience  is  like 
an  untrained  sense,  exercising  itself  on  variable  object-matter,  and 
hence  not  uniform  in  the  quality  of  its  dictates.  It  is  enough  to 
point  out  that  this  fact  is  amply  recognized  by  New  Testament 
writers.  St.  Paul  speaks  more  than  once  of  progress  in  knowledge 
and  perception  as  a  feature  of  the  Christian  mind,  and  the  faculty 
of  discerning  the  Good  is  said  to  grow  by  exercising  itself  on 
concrete  material.2  So  again,  the  moral  faculty  is  impaired  by 
unfaithfulness  to  its  direction ;  the  moral  chaos  in  which  the 
heathen  world  was  finally  plunged  resulted  from  such  unfaithful¬ 
ness  on  a  wide  scale.  The  Gentiles  knew  God,  but  did  not  act 
on  their  knowledge.  They  ‘  became  darkened ;  ’  they  lost  the 
power  of  moral  perception.3 

To  enlarge  on  this  subject  forms  no  part  of  our  present  plan. 
It  is  fair,  however,  to  cordially  acknowledge  that  Christian  thought 
is  indebted  to  psychological  research  for  deeper  and  more  accurate 

1  Bp.  Butler’s  sermons  emphasize  this  side  of  the  doctrine  of  conscience, 
esp.  the  Preface.  Cp.  Flint,  Theism,  Lect.  vii. 

2  See  Phil.  i.  9,  and  Heb.  v.  14  (the  Greek). 

3  Rom.  i.  21  ;  Athan.,  cont.  Gentes,  iii.-xi. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics . 


397 


conceptions  of  the  moral  faculty ;  and  the  possibility  of  large 
variation  both  in  the  dictates  of  conscience  and  the  certainty  of 
its  guidance  may  be  freely  admitted.  And  yet  it  has  been  justly 
observed  that  the  question  of  the  origin  of  this  faculty  is  not  one 
with  which  ethics  are  primarily  concerned.  That  inquiry  is  wholly 
distinct  from  the  question  of  its  capacities  and  functions  when  in  a 
developed  state }  The  unconditional  claim  of  conscience,  —  this  is 
the  constant  factor  which  meets  us  amid  all  variations  of  standard 
and  condition.  It  is  enough  that  conscience  is  that  organ  of  the 
soul  by  which  it  apprehends  moral  truth,  and  is  laid  under  obliga¬ 
tion  to  fulfil  it.  A  Christian  is  content  to  describe  it  as  God's 
voice ;  or,  in  a  poet’s  words  :  — - 

‘God’s  most  intimate  presence  in  the  soul, 

And  His  most  perfect  image  in  the  world/ 

For  Conscience,  while  making  an  absolute  claim  on  man’s  will, 
appeals  to  him  as  a  being  endowed  with  a  power  of  choice  ;  and 
thus  we  pass  to  the  subject  of  freedom.  What  is  freedom,  in  the 
Christian  sense?  In  the  New  Testament  freedom  is  connected 
with  truth.  ‘  The  truth,’  it  is  said,  ‘  shall  make  you  free.’  If 
man  stands  in  a  real  relation  to  the  Good,  his  true  freedom  can 
only  mean  freedom  to  correspond  with,  and  fulfil  the  law  of,  his 
nature.1 2  The  formal  power  of  choice  with  which  man  is  born,  — 
a  power  which  in  fact  is  seen  to  be  extremely  limited,3  —  is  only 
the  rudimentary  stage  of  freedom.  Will  is  as  yet  subject  to  num¬ 
berless  restrictions,  such  that  they  seem  utterly  to  preclude  an 
unfettered  choice.  It  is  limited,  for  example,  by  the  influence  of 
heredity  to  an  extent  which  often  appears  to  determine  uncon¬ 
ditionally  the  choice  between  different  courses  of  action.  ‘  Deter¬ 
minism  ’  has  at  least  liberated  our  thinking  from  the  crude  idea  of 
freedom  as  man’s  power  ‘  to  do  as  he  likes.’  True  liberty  can 
only  mean  freedom  from  false  dependence,  emancipation  of  the 
will  from  the  undue  pressure  of  external  forces  or  inherited  ten¬ 
dencies.  The  condition  of  ‘  perfect  freedom  ’  is  that  in  which 
man  yields  an  unforced  accord  to  the  Good,  —  his  correspondence 
with  it  as  the  law  of  life.  And  as  his  formal  power  of  choice 
becomes  by  habit  more  and  more  determined  towards  a  fixed 
adherence  to  the  Good,  he  begins  to  taste  the  ‘  glorious  liberty  ’ 

1  Wace,  Boyle  Lect.,  ser.  i,  Lect.  ii. 

2  Anselm,  Cur  Deus  Homo,  I.  xii. :  ‘  Libertas  non  est  nisi  ad  hoc  quod 
expedit  aut  qucd  decet.’ 

3  See  Martineau,  Types  of  Eth.  Theory,  i.  93;  ii.  39  [ed.  2];  Holland, 
Creed  and  Character,  Serm.  x. 


393 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


of  a  right  relation  to  God  and  His  Law.  He  becomes  free  with 
the  liberty  which  is  ‘  freedom  not  to  sin/  he  finds  himself  ‘  under 
the  sole  rule  of  God  most  free.’ 1 

Lastly,  Christianity  as  a  moral  system  is  distinguished  by  her 
view  of  man’s  present  condition.  His  upward  development  has 
been  interrupted.  In  theological  language  he  is  a  ‘fallen’  being, 
and  the  path  of  ethical  progress  is  a  way  of  recovery ,2  Man’s 
capacity  of  corresponding  with  the  ideal,  of  free  self-conformity 
to  it,  though  not  destroyed,  is  at  least  seriously  impaired.  His 
spiritual  capacities  are  not  what  they  were  once  in  a  fair  way  to 
be  ;  they  are  weakened  and  depraved,  and  man’s  advance  towards 
a  free  power  of  self-determination  is  in  fact  hindered  by  a  radical 
defect  of  will,  —  in  Christian  language,  by  the  principle  of  Sin. 
The  Bible  gives  an  account  of  sin,  its  first  cause,  its  consequences 
in  human  history.  Christian  Ethics  make  allowance  for  this  factor ; 
systems  which  overlook  it  or  minimize  it  inevitably  lose  contact 
with  the  actual  problem  to  be  solved,  with  life  as  it  is.  Their 
tendency  at  best  is  to  treat  moral,  as  on  a  level  with  physical,  evil; 
as  an  obstruction,  a  hindrance,  but  not  a  vital  defect  inherent  in 
human  nature.  Not  such  is  the  Christian  view  of  sin.  For  sin 
conditions  the  work  of  the  Incarnate  Son  Himself.  Not  only  does 
Christ  set  Himself  to  re-erect  the  true  standard  of  character,  He 
devotes  Himself  also  to  dealing  with  the  actual  ravages  of  moral 
evil.  He  teaches  its  intrinsic  nature,  its  source  in  the  will,  the 
inviolable  law  of  its  retribution  ;  He  reveals  the  destructive  potency 
of  its  effects  ;  He  labors  as  the  Good  Physician  to  remove  its  tem¬ 
poral  penalties ;  He  provides,  in  His  atoning  Sacrifice  of  Himself, 
the  one  and  only  countervailing  remedy.3 

Such  postulates  respecting  the  Nature  of  God  and  of  Man  find 
their  complement  and  point  of  contact  in  the  Catholic  doctrine  of 
the  Incarnation.  As  to  the  Person  of  Christ,  it  is  enough  to  pre¬ 
mise  that  the  Christian  system  of  ethics  is  intelligible  only  on  the 
basis  of  a  complete  recognition  of  all  that  our  Lord  claimed  to  be. 
He  came  to  reveal  among  men  the  nature,  the  ways,  the  will  of 
the  All-Holy;  to  present  the  true  pattern  of  human  goodness;  to 

1  Aug.,  de  mor.  Eccl.,  xxi. :  ‘  [Deo]  solo  dominante  liberrimus.’  Observe 
that  as  freedom  grows,  the  choice  becomes  more  restricted  by  the  law  :  ndi/Ta, 

a\\’  ov  iraura  (rv/JMpzpet  (i  Cor.  x.  23).  Cp.  Pet.  Lomb.,  Sent.,  ii. 

xxv.  7. 

2  Cyp.,  de  Op.  et  Eleem.,  i. :  ‘  Pater  Filium  misit  ut  reparare  nos  posset.’ 
Such  language  is  usual  with  the  Fathers. 

3  The  whole  subject  of  sin,  guilt,  punishment,  is  germane  to  our  subject, 
but  for  present  purposes  must  be  left  on  one  side. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


399 


be  the  perfect  representative  of  man  before  God.1  He  is  the 
Revealer  of  God,  as  being  Himself  in  the  fullest  sense  One  with 
God  ;  He  is  the  pattern  of  humanity  in  virtue  of  His  sinless  man¬ 
hood  ;  the  representative,  through  His  organic  union  with  our 
race.  His  Resurrection  and  Ascension  together  are  the  condition 
of  His  re-creative  action  as  a  quickening  Spirit  on  the  entire  nature 
of  man.  In  a  word,  His  Person,  His  work,  His  character  form 
the  central  point  of  ethical  inquiry  and  contemplation.2  To  arrive 
at  the  true  differentia  of  Christian  morals  we  need  to  study  more 
profoundly  the  character  and  purpose  oi  Jesus  Christ. 


I.  Christ's  Revelation  of  the  Highest  Good. 

To  the  Christian  moralist  the  entire  universe  presents  itself  in 
the  light  of  a  revealed  purpose  as  capable  of  receiving  a  spiritual 
impress,  and  as  moving  towards  an  ethical  consummation.  For 
although  man  is  the  crown  of  the  physical  creation,  he  cannot  be 
independent  of  it  in  his  advance  towards  the  proper  perfection  of 
his  being.  The  destiny  of  nature  is  bound  up  with  that  of  human¬ 
ity,  in  so  far  as  nature  tends  towards  some  form  of  ethical  con¬ 
sciousness,  presents  the  material  conditions  of  moral  action,  is 
capable  of  being  appropriated  or  modified  by  moral  forces,  —  will 
and  personality.  Thus  an  inquiry  into  the  Highest  Good  for  man 
gives  to  ethics  a  natural  point  of  contact  with  metaphysics.3 4 

Christ  Himself  points  our  thought  to  this  ideal  region  by  pre¬ 
senting  to  us  as  the  Highest  Good,  as  the  ultimate  object  of  moral 
effort,  the  kingdom  of  Godd  A  precise  definition  of  this  expression 
may  be  left  to  a  formal  treatise  ;  but  a  certain  complexity  in  the 
idea  may  be  briefly  elucidated. 

In  the  first  instance  the  kingdom  of  God  is  spoken  of  by  our 
Lord  as  a  Good  to  be  appropriated  by  man ,  through  conscious  and 
disciplined  moral  effort.  In  this  sense  the  kingdom  is  already 


1  Iren.  iii.  l8,  7  [Stieren]  :  e5ei  yap  rbv  p-eaiT-pv  &eov  re  Ka\  avOpwiroiv  81a 
T7 )s  18 las  Trpbs  eKarepovs  oIk€i6ti)tos  ex’s  (piXiau  Kal  6/j.ovolav  tovs  d/ucpoTepovs 
avvayaysiv,  Kal  Qe<2  p.\v  TrapaaTrjaai  t bv  duOpcoiroi/,  dvdpwirois  5e  yvwpiaai  rbv 
6e6v. 

2  Heb.  iii.  1  ;  Cyp.,  de  idol,  van.,  xi. :  ‘  Quod  homo  est,  esse  Christus  voluit, 
ut  et  homo  possit  esse  quod  Christus  est.’ 

3  Bern.,  de  Consid.,  v.  1  :  ‘  Quid  quod  et  inferioribus  eges  ?  .  .  .  Nonne 
praeposterum  hoc  et  indignum  ?  Plane  superiorum  quaedam  injuria  est  in- 
feriorum  operam  desiderare  :  a  qua  injuria  nemo  hominum  perfecte  vindi- 
cabitur  nisi  cum  quisque  evaserit  in  libertatcm  filiorum  Dei.’ 

4  St.  Matt.  vi.  33. 


400  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

‘  within  ’  men,1  though  not  in  its  mature  or  perfected  stage.  It  is 
an  actual  state,  spiritual  and  moral,  an  inward  process  or  move¬ 
ment,  a  present  possession.  The  attainment  of  this  state  involves 
‘  Blessedness,’  —  a  word  the  true  meaning  of  which  is  open  to  mis¬ 
conception.  ‘  Blessedness  *  is  not  ‘  a  mere  future  existence  of 
imaginary  beatitude,  ’ 2  not  a  bare  independence  of  natural  neces¬ 
sities  ;  nor  is  it  identical  with,  though  it  may  include,  ‘  happiness.’ 
The  instinct  in  human  nature  to  which  Christ  appealed  is  more 
fundamental  than  the  desire  of  ‘  happiness.’  The  word  employed 
by  Him  to  convey  His  meaning  had  by  ancient  usage  been  con¬ 
nected  with  supposed  conditions  and  modes  of  the  Divine  existence. 
‘  Blessedness  ’  in  fact  consists  in  a  living  relation  to  God,  in  a  pro¬ 
gressive  likeness  to  Him  ;  in  its  final  stage  it  is  nothing  less  than  the 
possession  of  God.  God  is  the  Highest  Good.3 

The  kingdom  of  God  is  also  to  be  conceived  as  the  goal  of  the 
entire  movement  of  the  universe  ;  but  while  nature  tends  blindly 
towards  some  ideal  end,  the  history  of  mankind  is  the  record  of  a 
Divinely  directed  movement  carried  on  through  free  human  agency.4 
For  an  ethical  world  two  factors  are  required  :  physical  nature,  the 
sphere  of  force  and  necessity ;  rational  personality,  conscious  of 
freedom  and  of  the  claim  of  authority.  The  goal  of  the  universe 
is  therefore  a  kingdom  in  which  each  element,  physical  nature  and 
personality,  finds  its  appropriate  sphere,  the  one  subordinate,  the 
other  dominant.  We  discern  a  prophecy  of  this  result  in  Bacon’s 
great  conception  of  a  ‘  regnum  hominis  ’  attainable  by  intelligent 
obedience  to  nature.  The  Bible  is  full  of  a  greater  thought.  It 
foresees  a  kingdom  of  intelligent  beings  whose  law  is  the  service  of 
God ;  a  state  in  which  the  inner  harmony  of  man’s  restored  nature 
will  be  reflected  in  a  worthy  outward  environment.  This  ideal  king¬ 
dom,  however,  has  its  preparatory  stage  on  earth.  Though  the 
present  condition  of  it  only  faintly  foreshadows  the  promised  glory 
of  the  future,  it  has  nevertheless  been  in  fact  set  up  among  men, 

1  St.  Luke  xvii.  21 ;  St.  Matt.  xiii.  45  foil.  (Parable  of  the  Pearl).  Cp.  Rom. 
xiv.  17  :  7)  fiacriAeia,  tou  Oeov  .  .  .  eariv  .  .  .  SiKaiocr wt]  kcu  eip7]V7)  Kai  XaPa 
iv  irveviuaTi  ay'icc. 

2  Wace,  ubi  sup.,  Lect.  viii.  Ambr.,  de  Off.  min.,  ii.  3,  4. 

3  Aug.,  de  mor.  Eccl.,  xiii.  ‘  Bonorum  summa  Deus  nobis  est ;  Deus  est 
nobis  summum  bonum/  lb.  xviii. :  ‘  Secutio  Dei,  beatitatis  appetitus  est ; 
consecutio,  ipsa  beatitas.’ 

4  Thom.  Aquin.,  Summa,  i.  iiae.  Qu.  i.  2  :  Ilia  quae  rationem  habent  seipsa 
movent  ad  finem,  quia  habent  dominium  suorum  actuum  per  liberum  aibi- 
trium.  .  .  .  Ilia  vero  quae  ratione  carent  tendunt  in  finem  propter  naturalem 
inclinationem  quasi  ab  alio  mota,  non  autem  a  seipsis,  cum  non  cognoscant 
rationem  finis;  et  ideo  nihil  in  finem  ordinare  possunt,  sed  solum  in  finem  ab 
alio  ordinantur/ 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


401 


e  not  in  word,  but  in  power.’  For  the  main  factor  that  makes  such 
a  kingdom  ideally  possible,  already  operates,  —  namely,  creaturely 
life  realizing  its  true  dependence  on  God,  human  will  and  human 
character  responding  to  the  will  and  purpose  of  God. 1 

Such  is  the  kingdom  for  which  we  look,  and  its  Centre  and  Head 
is  the  living  Christ.2  He  is  the  type  after  which  the  new  person¬ 
ality  is  to  be  fashioned.  He  who  unveils  this  world  of  spiritual 
beings  and  powers,  is  Himself  the  source  of  its  movement,  the 
centre  of  its  attraction,  the  surety  of  its  final  triumph. 

There  cannot  but  result  from  this  hope  a  particular  view  of  the 
present  world.  It  is  characteristic  of  the  Christian  spirit  frankly  to 
recognize  the  natural  world  in  its  due  subordination  to  personality, 
in  its  subserviency  to  ethical  ends.  An  absolute  idealism  is  not 
less  alien  to  this  standpoint  than  a  crude  materialism.  The  Chris¬ 
tian  is  not  blind  to  the  tokens  of  interdependence  between  the 
worlds  of  matter  and  spirit ;  the  fact  indeed  of  such  relation  gives 
peculiar  color  to  the  Christian  regard  for  nature.  Nature  is  pre¬ 
cious  as  the  sphere  in  which  a  Divine  Life  is  manifested,  as  the 
object  of  Divine  Love.3  And  yet,  in  the  light  of  revelation,  the 
universe  cannot  be  contemplated  without  mingled  emotions.  The 
Christian  knows  something  of  the  pain  and  of  the  satisfaction  which 
in  their  unchastened  form  we  call  Pessimism  and  Optimism.  For 
there  must  be  sorrow  in  the  recollection  of  the  causal  link  that 
unites  physical  to  moral  evil.  Though  pain  has  value  as  the  con¬ 
dition  of  nobler  phases  of  life,  and  heightened  spirituality  of  char¬ 
acter,  it  is  nevertheless  an  evil  producing  in  a  healthy  nature 
something  more  than  a  transient  disturbance.  Pain  is  the  sensible, 
even  if  remote,  outcome  of  moral  perversity,  of  misdirected  desire. 
It  pervades  impartially  the  physical  universe,  but  seems  in  manifold 
instances  to  point  beyond  itself  to  its  source  in  human  sin. 

And  yet  there  is  a  Christian  optimism,  —  a  thankful  joy  even 
amid  present  conditions.  There  is  the  joy  of  at  least  a  rudiment¬ 
ary  realization  of  the  chief  Good  ;  the  joy  of  setting  a  seal,  as  it 
were,  to  the  truth  of  God.4  The  ‘  powers  of  the  world  to  come  ’ 
are  already  within  reach  ;  they  can  be  set  in  motion,  felt,  tested, 
enjoyed.  There  is  a  known  end  of  creation  by  the  light  of  which 
all  forms  and  products  of  human  enterprise  can  be  judged.  Thus 
even  the  growth  and  organized  strength  of  evil  does  not  dismay 
the  Christian  ;  for  he  knows  that  the  advance  of  the  kingdom  is 

1  See  Godet,  Comm,  on  1  Corinthians  [Clark]  vi.  236. 

2  St.  Matt.  xix.  28  ;  St.  Luke  xxii.  30. 

3  St.  John  iii.  16. 

4  St.  John  iii.  33.  See  Dorner’s  System  of  Ethics  [Clark],  §  47. 

26 


402 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


certain,  whatever  be  the  hindrances  opposed  to  it,  and  that  God’s 
invincible  will  controls  and  overrules  all  that  seems  most  lawless, 
and  hostile  to  His  purpose.  4  The  city  of  God,’  says  St.  Augustine, 
‘  is  a  pilgrim  sojourning  by  faith  among  evil  men,  abiding  patiently 
the  day  when  righteousness  shall  turn  to  judgment,  and  victory 
bring  peace.’  In  his  assurance  that  ‘all  things  work  together  for 
good  to  them  that  love  God,’  that  the  end  is  certain,  and  human 
tears  are  blind,  the  Christian  can  be  free  from  illusions  or  extrava¬ 
gant  hopes,  yet  not  cast  down,  ‘  sorrowful,  yet  alway  rejoicing,’ 
‘  perplexed,  but  not  in  despair.’ 1 


II.  Chrisfs  Revelation  of  the  Moral  Law ,  its  authority ,  . sanc¬ 
tions,  and  content. 

On  the  place  and  meaning  of  freedom  in  Christian  Ethics  we 
have  already  touched.  Our  formal  freedom  is  the  ground  of  moral 
responsibility,  —  that  element  in  us  to  which  Law  makes  its  authori¬ 
tative  appeal.  From  the  thought  of  freedom  in  relation  to  a  moral 
universe  we  pass  naturally  to  that  df  Law. 

And  first,  it  is  convenient  to  inquire  what  is  the  revealed  basis  of 
obligation  in  general? 

The  most  conspicuous  feature  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount — - 
that  first  great  outline  of  Christian  morality — is  its  authoritative 
tone.  We  instinctively  turn  to  it  in  searching  for  a  fundamental 
principle  of  obligation,  a  ground  of  authority  for  Law.  Nor  are  we 
disappointed,  for  our  question  is  met  by  the  consideration  that  this 
great  discourse  is  primarily  a  revelation  of  the  personal  God  in  His 
holy  relation  to  mankind.  It  is  with  this  personal  relationship  that 
the  claim  of  moral  Good  on  man’s  will  is  seen  to  be  uniformly  con¬ 
nected.  The  Good  in  fact  presents  itself  to  man  in  the  shape  of  a 
personal  appeal :  ‘  Be  ye  holy,  for  I  am  holy.’  Morality  appears  as 

God’s  exhortation  to  man  to  embrace  and  fulfil  the  true  law  of  his 
nature.  ‘  Be  ye  perfect,’  it  is  said,  ‘  even  as  your  Father  which  is 
in  heaven  is  perfect.’ 2  The  Good  is  thus  at  once  the  explicit  dec¬ 
laration  of  the  Divine  will  and  the  condition  of  human  perfection. 
Already  the  coldness  of  abstract  Law  begins  to  disappear.  Law  is 
seen  to  be  not  an  abstraction  merely,  but  inseparably  connected 
with  the  living  Personality  behind  it.  It  is  the  self-revelation  of  a 

1  2  Cor.  iv.  8;  vi.  to.  Cp.  Rom.  viii.  28. 

2  St.  Matt.  v.  48.  Butler,  Serm.  3  :  ‘  Your  obligation  to  obey  this  Law  is 
its  being  the  Law  of  your  nature.  .  .  .  The  correspondence  of  actions  to  the 
nature  of  the  agent  renders  them  natural.’ 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


403 


loving  Being,  appealing  to  the  object  of  His  Love,  and  seeking  its 
highest  welfare.  Obligation  is  transformed,  and  is  seen  to  be  the 
tie  of  vital  relationship  between  persons.1 

Further,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  Christ’s  teaching  as  to 
obligation  was  accompanied  by  the  promise  of  a  supernatural  gift, 
—  the  gift  of  a  new  capacity  to  fulfil  the  Law.  The  Good  had 
hitherto  been  known,  howsoever  imperfectly,  as  requirement. 
Ethical  progress  before  Christ's  coming  could  only  tend  to  deepen 
this  knowledge.  We  know  indeed  what  was  the  object  of  that 
long  providential  discipline  of  humanity  which  culminated  in  the 
Incarnation  :  how  it  ended  by  driving  man  to  look  and  long  for 
a  condition  of  things  which  should  no  longer  be  marked  by  hope¬ 
less  severance  of  the  actual  from  the  obligatory.  With  the  advent 
of  the  Redeemer,  a  new  joy  dawned  on  the  world,  —  the  possibility 
of  goodness. 

We  learn  then  that  the  ground  of  obligation  is  God’s  will  for  the 
perfection  of  His  creatures,  —  His  desire  that  they  should  be  like 
Himself.2  The  sense  of  obligation  is  indeed  never  absent  from 
the  consciousness  of  Christ  Himself.  4  We  must  work,’  He  says, 
‘  the  works  of  Him  that  sent  Me  while  it  is  day.’  1  My  meat  is  to 
do  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  Me,  and  to  finish  His  work,’ 3  —  in 
which  utterances  we  discern  the  principle  we  need.  Only  when 
duty  presents  itself  in  the  form  of  personal  appeal,  only  when 
obedience  is  kindled  and  enriched  by  feeling,  can  law  become  a 
bond,  not  of  constraint,  but  of  love. 

It  follows  that  obligation,  thus  founded  on  personal  relationship 
to  God,  is  absolute  and  independent  of  variation  in  the  specific 
demands  of  Law.  Human  goodness  will  consist  in  correspond¬ 
ence  to  the  will  of  God,  and  the  degree  of  clearness  with  which  a 
man  apprehends  that  will  is  the  measure  of  his  obligation.  This 
principle  seems  to  preclude  any  idea  of  ‘  supererogatory  works,’  and 
tends  to  neutralize  for  the  individual  conscience  the  distinction 
between  ‘  commands  ’  and  ‘  counsels  of  perfection,’  the  spirit  in 
which  Law  is  ideally  fulfilled  being  that  of  sonship,  eager,  loyal, 
and  generous.4 

1  Cp.  Bp.  Ellicott,  The  Being  of  God,  p.  120. 

2  Rom.  ii.  18  (yivwaKeis  rb  Oe\-q/j.a)  implies  that  when  a  man  knows  God’s 
will,  he  knows  his  duly. 

3  St.  John  ix.  4;  iv.  34.  Cp.  vi.  40;  St.  Luke  iv.  43.  See  also  Rom.  xii. 
2  ;  Eph.  v.  17,  etc. 

4  The  case  of  the  young  man  (St.  Matt.  xix.  21)  shows  how  obligation  is 
extended  by  contact  with  Christ,  i.  e.  by  closer  relation  to  God.  The  general 
principle  is  that  each  is  bound  to  follow  the  law  of  his  persona]  perfection 
as  it  unveils  itself  to  him  See  Bengel  in  loc.,  and  cp.  St.  Luke  xvii.  10. 


404  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

The  universal  obligation  of  moral  Law  is  by  Christ  connected 
for  practical  purposes  with  a  system  of  sanctions.  As  to  the 
Christian  doctrine  of  rewards  and  punishments  it  is  only  necessary 
to  observe,  that  any  ethical  system  which  has  regard  to  the  condi¬ 
tion  of  man  as  he  is,  finds  itself  constrained,  for  disciplinary  ends, 
to  lay  a  certain  stress  on  this  point.  Further,  it  should  be  noticed 
that  the  nature  of  these  sanctions  is  seldom  clearly  understood. 
They  occupy  a  place  in  Christ’s  teaching,  because  it  is  His  wont 
to  deal  with  human  nature  as  He  finds  it ;  He  points,  however, 
not  so  much  to  a  future  state,  as  to  a  present  spiritual  sphere  in 
which  conduct  is  indissolubly  linked  to  consequence,  and  there 
operate  ‘  the  searching  laws  of  a  spiritual  kingdom.’ 1  The  sanc¬ 
tions  with  which  Christ  enforces  His  doctrine  may  thus  be  regarded 
as  pointing  to  a  reign  of  Law  in  the  spiritual  realm  which  He 
reveals  to  mankind.  He  seems  indeed  to  recognize  the  occa¬ 
sional  need  of  appeals  to  fear,  as  likely  to  rouse  the  conscience 
and  will.  He  sets  before  us  the  prospect  of  spiritual  judgments 
acting,  at  least  partially,  in  the  sphere  of  the  present  life.  His 
more  frequent  appeal,  however,  is  to  what  may  be  called  the 
enlightened  self-interest  of  men.  Their  true  life,  He  tells  them, 
is  to  be  found  or  acquired  in  a  consecration,  a  sacrifice  of  the 
natural  life  to  the  claims  and  calls  of  the  Divine  kingdom.2  Such 
sacrifice,  such  co-operation  with  God,  is  its  own  ineffable  reward 

What  then,  it  may  be  asked,  are  the  ?notives,  the  inducements  to 
action,  appealed  to  by  Christianity?  how  far  are  imperfect  motives 
recognized  ?  and  in  view  of*the  fact  that  no  mere  sense  of  relation 
to  Law  is  in  general  likely  to  move  the  human  will,  where  does 
the  Gospel  find  its  ‘  moral  dynamic,’  —  its  highest  motive  ? 

We  have  seen  that  Christianity  in  a  peculiar  degree  combines 
the  presentation  of  duty  with  an  appeal  to  feeling.  In  the  same 
way  by  connecting  obligation  to  obey  God  with  a  revelation  of  His 
Love,  Jesus  Christ  solves  the  most  difficult  problem  of  ethics. 
The  highest  motive  is  Love  to  God ,  kindled  not  only  by  the 
contemplation  of  His  Perfections,  but  also  by  a  passionate  sense 
of  what  He  has  wrought  in  order  to  make  possible  the  fulfilment 
of  His  Law.  ‘We  love  Him,’  says  St.  John,  ‘because  He  first 

1  Wace,  Lect.  ii. 

2  St.  Matt.  xvi.  25,  26.  The  discussion  of  ‘  Christian  consolations,’  by 
Mr.  Cotter  Morison,  ‘  Service  of  Man,’  overlooks  the  fact  that  Christ’s  object 
was  not  to  *  console  ’  men,  but  to  set  before  them  the  truth,  and  the  law  of 
their  own  perfection.  The  ‘  consolations  ’  of  Christianity  can  be  won  only 
if  they  are  never  made  the  object  of  life.  They  are  a  re-iuard ,  but  never,  in 
the  higher  forms  of  Christian  consciousness,  an  aim.  See  Church  Quart. 
Rev  ,  Jan.  1888,  p.  268. 


xu.  Christian  Ethics. 


405 


loved  us.’  We  do  not,  however,  expect  the  motive  of  action  to 
be  in  all  cases  identical,  or  uniformly  praiseworthy.  A  practical 
system  must  recognize  very  different  stages  of  maturity  in  charac¬ 
ter  ;  and  the  possibility  of  imperfect  or  mixed  motives  is  frankly 
allowed  by  Christian  thinkers,  and  seems  to  be  sanctioned  by  our 
Lord  Himself.1  It  may  be  said  on  the  whole  that  while  the  Gospel 
ever  appeals  to  man’s  desire  for  his  own  good,  it  adapts  itself  and 
condescends  to  widely  varying  forms  and  degrees  of  that  desire, 
by  way  of  educating  it  to  greater  disinterestedness  and  purity.2 
We  may  fittingly  speak  of  ‘  a  hierarchy  of  motives,’  and  can  view 
with  equanimity  those  attacks  on  Christianity  which  represent  it  as 
a  thinly-disguised  appeal  to  selfishness.  For  the  reward  promised 
to  man  is  one  which  will  only  appeal  to  him  in  so  far  as  he  has 
parted  with  his  old  self,  and  has  made  the  Divine  purpose  his  own. 
The  reward  is  joy,  —  the  ‘joy  of  the  Lord;’  the  joy  of  a  worthy 
cause  embraced  and  advanced ;  of  a  task  achieved ;  of  labor 
crowned  by  nobler  and  wider  service.  Such  joy  could  only  be  an 
inspiring  motive  to  self-forgetful  love,  which  finds  the  fulfilment  of 
every  aspiration,  the  satisfaction  of  every  desire,  in  God  and  in  His 
work.3 

Christian  duty,  the  content  of  the  Law,  demands  somewhat 
larger  treatment.  It  has  been  suggested  that  the  conception  of 
morality  as  a  Divine  code,  as  ‘  the  positive  law  of  a  theocratic 
community,’  which  seems  characteristic  of  early  Christian  writings 
on  morals,  is  a  legacy  from  Judaism.4  Be  this  as  it  may,  —  the 
distmctive  feature  of  Christianity  is  that  henceforth  the  Law  is  not 
contemplated  apart  from  the  Personality  of  God.  The  Law  is 
4  holy,  just,  and  good,’  because  it  reflects  His  character.  Obedi¬ 
ence  to  it  is  acknowledged  to  be  the  indispensable  condition  of 
true  union  between  God  and  His  creatures.  For  Jesus  Christ 
teaches  us  to  discern  in  the  Law  the  self-unveiling  of  a  Being 
whose  holiness  and  love  it  reflects,  as  well  as  His  purpose  for 
man. 

The  revealed  Law  is  comprised  in  the  Decalogue.  It  seems 

1  Witness  the  discussions  on  fear  commonly  found  in  mediaeval  theology. 
Bruce,  ‘  Parabolic  Teaching  of  Christ,’  p.  359  foil.,  has  some  good  remarks  on 
this  point.  ‘  The  parabolic  form  of  instruction  does  not  afford  scope  for  the 
play  of  the  highest  class  of  motives.  It  is  essentially  popular  wisdom,  and 
it  is  the  way  of  that  which  aims  at  teaching  the  million,  to  make  action 
spring  from  homely  motives .’ 

2  Butler,  Analogy,  i.  5. 

3  See  H.  S.  Holland,  Creed  and  Character,  Serm.  xviii.  Cp.  St.  Matt, 
xxv.  21,  Heb.  xii.  2.  Thomas  Aquin.,  Summa,  ii.  ii®,  xxviii. 

4  Sidgwick,  Outlines  of  the  Hist,  of  Ethics,  chap.  3. 


40  6 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


needless  to  vindicate  at  length  the  paramount  place  which  this 
fundamental  code  occupies  in  Christian  thought.1  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  in  broad  outline  it  defines  the  conditions  of  a  light  rela¬ 
tion  to  God,  and  to  all  that  He  has  made.  And  the  Law  is 
‘  spiritual.’ 2  Though  for  educative  purposes  primarily  concerned 
with  action,  it  makes  reference  to  inward  disposition,  and  thereby 
anticipates  the  main  characteristic  of  Christian  goodness.  It  also 
recalls  the  great  land-marks  of  God’s  redemptive  action ;  it  sets 
forth  His  gracious  acts,  partly  as  an  incentive  to  gratitude,  partly 
as  a  ground  of  obligation. 

In  our  Lord’s  teaching  we  find  two  truths  implied:  (i)  The 
absolute  priority  and  permanence  of  the  Decalogue  in  relation 
to  all  other  precepts  of  the  Jewish  Law ;  (2)  Its  essential  unity 
viewed  as  a  Law  of  love.  This  latter  aspect  is  anticipated  in 
the  book  of  Deuteronomy,  and  is  explicitly  set  forth  by  our 
Lord.  There  are,  He  tells  us,  two  commandments:  the  first  and 
greatest,  love  to  God;  the  second  ‘like  unto  it,’  love  to  man, 
with  the  limitation  annexed,  *  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself.' 

Thus  guided  by  precedent,  a  Christian,  in  examining  the  Law’s 
content ,  may  take  the  Decalogue  as  a  natural  basis  of  division.  It 
may  be  shortly  analyzed  as  embracing  a  comprehensive  outline  of 
man’s  duty  towards  (i)  God,  (ii)  his  fellow-men,  and  implicitly 
towards  himself  and  non-personal  creatures. 

First  stand  duties  towards  God,  resulting  directly  from  the  per¬ 
sonal  contact  assumed  to  be  possible  between  God  and  man.  The 
all-embracing  command  which  involves  the  fulfilling  of  the  Law  is 
contained  in  the  words,  ‘  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with 
all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind.’ 3  In 
this  ‘  great  commandment  ’  we  find  the  widest  point  of  divergence 
from  Pagan  ethics.  Man’s  true  centre  is  God.  His  perfection  is 
to  be  sought  in  creaturely  subjection  and  free  conformity  to  the 
Divine  purpose.4  The  general  sphere  of  God-ward  duty  is  defined 
in  the  first  four  commandments,  which  are  seen  to  give  moral 
sanction,  not  only  to  the  outward  expression,  but  to  the  actual 

1  Iren.  iv.  16.  §  3  [Stieren].  God  appears  in  the  Decalogue  ‘praestruens 
hominem  in  suam  amicitiam  .  .  .  et  ideo  [verba]  similiter  permanent  apud 
nos  extensionem  et  augmentum  sed  non  dissolutionem  accipientia  per  carna- 
lem  Eius  adventum.’  Thom.  Aquin.,  Summa,  i.  i®*  Qu.  c.  Art.  3  ‘Omnia 
praecepta  [moralia]  legis  sunt  quaedam  partes  praeceptorum  decalogi.’ 

2  Rom.  vii.  14. 

3  St.  Matt.  xxii.  37.  Cp.  Aug.,  de  mor.  Eccl.  xviii.-xx. ;  de  doc.  Christ.,  i. 
29. 

4  Aug.  1.  c:  ‘  Maxime  Ei  propinquat  [homo]  subjectione  ista  qua  similis  fit.’ 


xii.  Christian  Ethics . 


407 


substance  of  belief;  the  distinctive  duties  enjoined  therein  have 
been  summarily  described  as  faith,  reverence,  service.1  The  fourth 
precept  lays  down  the  principle  that  man  is  bound  to  honor  God 
by  consecrating  a  definite  portion  of  time  to  His  worship,  and  by 
providing  space  for  the  due  re-creation  of  that  human  nature  which 
by  creative  right  is  God’s,  and  is  destined  for  union  with  Him. 

The  duty  of  love  to  our  fellow-men  follows  upon  that  of  love  to 
God.  Every  man’s  personality  gives  him  absolute  and  equal  worth 
in  God’s  sight,  and  therefore  lays  us  under  obligation  towards  Him. 
Heathen  moralists  confined  the  sphere  of  obligation  to  a  few  simple 
relationships,  e.  g.,  family-life,  friendship,  civic  duty.  Tut  the  re¬ 
vealed  law  of  love  to  man  embraces  every  relationship.  ‘  Every 
man  is  neighbor  to  every  man.’  2  It  is  clear  that  any  adequate  out¬ 
line  of  this  precept  involves  the  whole  treatment  ot  social  duty. 

Men  have  their  rights ,  i.  e.  lay  us  under  obligation,  both  individ¬ 
ually  and  collectively.  The  individual  has  his  ‘  duty  ’  to  fulfil  to 
the  family,  the  association,  the  class,  the  city,  the  State,  the  Church 
which  claims  him.  The  immense  field  of  our  possible  duties 
towards  society,  and  towards  each  individual,  so  far  as  he  comes 
in  contact  with  us,  may  be  regarded  as  embraced  in  the  second 
table  of  the  Decalogue.  Thus  the  fifth  commandment  lends  im¬ 
portant  sanction  not  only  to  the  parental  claim,  but  also  to  the 
authority  of  fundamental  moral  communities,  —  the  family,  the 
State,  the  Church.  The  following  precepts  regulate  the  security  of 
life  and  personality,  of  marriage  and  sexual  distinctions,  of  property, 
honor,  and  good  name.  The  tenth  commandment  anticipates 
that  ‘  inwardness  ’  which  constitutes  the  special  feature  of  Chris¬ 
tian  morality.  ‘  It  is  the  commandment,’  says  an  ethical  writer, 
‘  which  perhaps  beyond  any  of  the  rest  was  likely  to  deepen  in  the 
hearts  of  devout  and  thoughtful  men  in  the  old  Jewish  times,  that 
sense  of  their  inability  to  do  the  will  of  God,  and  to  fulfil  the 
Divine  idea  of  what  human  life  ought  to  be,  which  is  indispensable 
to  the  surrender  of  the  soul  to  God.’ 3 

But  according  to  the  Christian  theory  there  are  duties  to  self 
which  seem  to  follow  from  the  relation  in  which  man  stands  to 
God,  and  form  the  true  measure  of  his  regard  for  others  :  ‘  Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thy^self.  ’  There  is  a  right  self-love,  a 
right  care  of  the  personality  as  being  itself  an  object  of  God’s  Love, 

1  Thom.  Aquin.,  Summa,  i.  ii.ae  c.  5  :  ‘  Principi  communitatis  tria  debet  homo, 
fidelitatem,  reventiam,  famulatum.’  Cp.  Butler,  Analogy,  pt.  ii.  1. 

2  Aug.,  de  disc.  Christ.,  iii.  *  ‘  Proximus  est  omni  homini  omnis  homo,’  etc. 

3  R.  W.  Dale,  The  Ten  Commandments,  p.  241.  Cp.  Thom.  Aquin., 
Summa,  i.  iiae.  c.  6;  Martineau,  Types,  etc.,  ii.  26. 


408 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


and  so  included  in  the  category  of  things  ethically  good.  What 
the  Christian  ought  to  love,  however,  is  not  the  old  natural  self, 
but  the  ‘  new  man,’  the  true  image  of  himself  which  has  absolute 
worth.1  A  moral  complexion  is  thus  given  to  all  that  concerns  the 
personal  life,  —  the  care  of  health,  the  culture  of  faculties,  the  oc¬ 
casions  of  self-assertion.  Every  moment  of  conscious  existence, 
and  every  movement  of  will,  —  all  in  fact,  that  relates  to  the  per¬ 
sonality,  —  is  brought  within  the  domain  of  Law.  Christianity 
‘  claims  to  rule  the  whole  man,  and  leave  no  part  of  his  life  out  of 
the  range  of  its  regulating  and  transforming  influence.’ 2  For  in 
every  situation,  transaction,  or  display  of  feeling,  will  is  required  to 
declare  itself :  moral  activity  takes  place.  Duties  to  self,  as  loved 
by  God,  are  thus  implied  in  the  ‘  great  commandment.’  For  God 
therein  requires  of  man  a  consecration  of  the  entire  self,  an  inward 
self-devotion,  a  reasonable,  heartfelt  service  :  He  asks  for  love. 
From  this  point  of  view,  sin  —  the  false  claim  to  independence  — 
is  simply  wrong  self-love. 

Some  would  even  class  all  shapes  of  sin  as  falling  under  two 
main  forms  of  self-assertion,  arrogance,  and  sensuality.  And  St. 
Augustine  suggests  a  profound  view  of  the  development  of  the  true, 
as  compared  with  the  false  society,  when  he  says  :  ‘  The  two  cities 
owe  their  being  to  two  forms  of  love  ;  the  earthly,  to  self-love ;  the 
heavenly,  to  the  love  of  God.’ 3 

It  remains  to  extend  the  principle  of  love  to  the  non-personal 
sphere  with  which  man  is  in  contact.  We  have  seen  that  absolute 
worth  belongs  only  to  personality.  But  man’s  relation  to  the 
creatures  below  him  in  the  scale  of  development  implies  a  field  of 
duties  of  which  ethics  must  take  cognizance.  The  non-personal 
part  of  nature  is  ordained  for  subjugation  by  man.  It  is  included 
in  his  dominion  :  ter  ram  dedit  din's  hominum.  Yet  even  in  the 
Mosaic  Law  we  find  respect  enjoined  for  certain  distinctions  of 
nature  which  are  not  to  be  overridden  or  confounded.  The 
physical  order,  like  the  moral,  was  to  be  regarded  as  sacred.4 

1  Summa,  i.  ii  ae.  c.  5,  ‘  Dilectio  sni  ipsius  includitur  in  dilectione  Dei  et  prox- 
imi  ;  in  hoc  enim  homo  vere  se  diligit  quod  se  ordinat  in  Deum.’  Ib.  ii.  iiae. 
xix.  6  :  ‘  Homo  se  propter  Deum,  et  in  Deo  diligit.’  Aug.,  Serm.,  ccxvi.  8  : 

‘  Amate  quod  eritis  :  eritis  enim  filii  Dei.’  Pascal,  Pensdes,  Art.  xviii.  15, 
‘Que  1’homme  s'aime ,  car  il  a  en  lui  une  nature  capable  de  bien.’  Cp.  But¬ 
ler,  Serm.  i.,  etc. 

2  Sidgwick,  Outlines,  etc.,  p.  10S.  Cp.  Dorner,  System,  etc.,  p.  459  [Clark]. 

3  Aug.,  de  Civ.  Dei,  xiv.  28. 

4  See  Ex.  xxi.  33  foil.  ;  Deut.  xxii.  9  foil. ;  Levit.  xix.  etc.  Summa,  i.  iiae.  i. 
2;‘Tota  irrationalis  natura  comparatur  ad  Deum  sicut  instrumentum  ad 
agens  principale.’ 


xi 1 0  Christian  Ethics . 


409 


Duties,  then,  of  this  kind  exist ;  and  they  are  apparently  compre¬ 
hended  in  the  fourth  commandment,  which  expresses  God’s  crea¬ 
tive  claim  on  typical  orders  of  living  creatures,  ordaining  that 
‘  cattle  ’  are  to  share  the  benefit  of  the  Sabbath  rest.  The  sixth 
and  eighth  commandments  again  imply  the  sanctity  of  physical 
life,  and  of  personal  property.  And  if  we  pass  behind  the 
Decalogue,  we  find  animals  included  in  a  sense  within  God’s  original 
and  irreversible  covenant.1  The  control  therefore  of  human  will 
over  nature,  animate  and  inanimate,  though  comparatively  absolute, 
is  yet  subject  to  the  restrictions  which  love  suggests.  For  the 
natural  world  also  displays  the  omnipresent  control  and  watchful 
providence  of  a  Being  ‘  Whose  mercy  is  over  all  His  works.’  Physi¬ 
cal  life  in  this  sphere  may  be  treated  as  a  means ;  but  it  must  also 
be  dealt  with  ‘  in  harmony  with  the  creative  Thought/  2 

In  quitting  the  subject  of  duty,  we  do  well  to  mark  the  infinite 
extension  given  to  the  idea  by  the  treatment  of  it  in  connection 
with  the  doctrine  of  an  Infinite  and  Holy  God.  Our  Lord,  illustrating 
His  exposition  of  the  ancient  Law  by  a  few  significant  examples, 
not  only  opened  to  His  hearers  the  possibility  of  a  spiritual,  tran¬ 
scendent  morality,  but  also  laid  down  a  far-reaching  principle  of 
obligation.  rl  he  self-unveiling  of  the  Infinite  Being  evidently 
makes  an  infinite  claim  on  the  will  and  affection  of  intelligent 
creatures. 

With  this  extension  of  morality  we  might  compare  a  somewhat 
parallel  feature  in  the  aesthetic  sphere. 

Into  the  arts  also,  notably  into  architecture  and  music,  the 
Christian  spirit  introduced  the  element  of  mystery,  and  found  ex¬ 
pression  in  them  for  the  idea  of  infinity,  —  an  idea  so  alien  to  the 
Greek  genius,  which  had  ever  contemplated  beauty,  and  therefore 
ethical  Good,  as  something  essentially  limited,  measurable,  sym¬ 
metrical,  exact.3  Such  a  thought  might  suggest  a  line  of  abstract 
discussion  ;  but  practical  needs  remind  us  that  the  true  range  of 
obligation  is  best  interpreted  to  us  by  a  living  ideal.  As  the  writer 
of  Ecce  Homo  remarks,  ‘The  Law  which  Christ  gave  was  not  only 
illustrated,  but  infinitely  enlarged,  by  His  deeds.  For  every  deed 
was  itself  a  precedent  to  be  followed,  and  therefore  to  discuss  the 
legislation  of  Christ  is  to  discuss  His  character  ;  for  it  may  be  justly 
said  that  Christ  Himself  is  the  Christian  Law l 4 

1  Consider  Gen.  ix.  10.  Cp.  Gen.  viii.  1  ;  Prov.  xii.  10,  etc. 

2  Martensen,  Special  Ethics  (Indiv.),  p.  278  [Clark]. _ 

3  See  Trench,  Mediaeval  Church  History,  Lect.xxvii.  Cp.  Plato,  Phiieb, 
64  E  foil. 

4  Ecce  Homo,  c.  x.  Cp.  St.  John  xxi.  25. 


4io 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnatioyi . 


The  transition  from  the  discussion  of  moral  Law  to  that  of 
Christian  character  seems  at  this  point  natural  and  simple. 

III.  Christ  the  Pattern  of  Character. 

The  stress  which  in  Christian  Ethics  is  laid  upon  personality 
scarcely  requires  further  illustration.  The  principle  of  personality 
underlies  our  fundamental  assumption  that  man  is  capable  of  free 
communion  with,  and  imitation  of,  God.  We  believe  that  the 
union  between  God  and  man  was  consummated  in  and  through  a 
Person.  Further,  the  spirit  in  which  fulfilment  of  the  Law  is  pos¬ 
sible  —  the  spirit  of  filial  love  —  can  only  exist  in  personal  rela¬ 
tions.  It  corresponds  with  this  general  prominence  of  personality 
that  Christianity  presents  the  ideal  standard  of  human  character  in 
a  Person. 

In  passing  may  be  noted  the  fact  that  this  principle  to  some 
extent  emerges  in  ancient  systems,  xMistotle’s  definition  of  virtue 
naturally  occurs  to  us  as  admitting  the  function  of  an  1  expert  ’ 
(6  (fipovi/xos ,  6  cnrovSatos)  in  the  right  estimation  of  moral  action. 
The  Stoic  again  seeks  or  invents  a  trustworthy  standard  in  his  ideal 
conception  of  the  ‘  wise  man.’  It  seems  possible  that  modern 
non-Christian  ethics  will  ultimately  substitute  for  the  cultivated 
sense  of  mankind  some  form  of  personal  ideal.1  For  £  the  Law 
attains  its  lovable  form,  its  beauty,  only  when  it  becomes  per¬ 
sonal  ;  ’ 2  and  it  might  be  said  with  truth  that  no  idea  can  be  formed 
of  virtues  in  the  harmony  of  their  combination,  until  they  are  seen 
embodied  in  a  person.  Just  as  theology  has  in  the  study  of  Divine 
truth  concentrated  her  gaze  on  the  Person  of  Jesus  Christ  as  a 
revelation  of  God;  so  ethics,  in  the  effort  to  formulate  the  law 
of  moral  perfection,  must  study  the  same  Divine  Person  as  a  type 
of  character. 

It  is  necessary  therefore  at  the  outset  to  recall  some  salient 
features  of  the  great  Example. 

The  character  of  Jesus  Christ  has  been  a  subject  of  study  to 
thinkers  of  every  period  in  Christian  history,  and  of  infinitely 
varied  qualifications  for  the  task.  Some  have  in  the  supposed 
interest  of  morality  been  tempted  to  lay  disproportionate  stress 
on  the  fact  of  our  Lord’s  manhood.  They  ask  how  Christ  can  be 
an  example  to  humanity,  unless  He  be  a  Man  like  other  men?3 

1  It  is  significant  that  Mr.  Cotter  Morison  in  his  ‘  Service  of  Man  ’discusses 
personal  types  of  Christian  saintliness. 

2  Dorner,  System,  etc.,  p.  377. 

3  See  some  remarks  on  this  tendency  in  Liddon,  Bampton  Lectures,  viii. ; 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


41 1 

From  a  Christian  standpoint,  however,  it  is  clear  that  the  efficacy 
of  that  Example  depends  on  Christ’s  being  a  Man  unlike  other 
men,  —  unlike  them  in  His  relation  to  the  Divine  requirement, 
unlike  them  in  His  power  of  contact  with  the  entire  race.  Thus 
we  find  ourselves  in  correspondence  with  dogmatic  truth.  The 
mystery  of  atonement  necessitates  a  sinless  Victim ;  the  Christian 
conception  of  human  life  requires  a  sinless  Example.  The  perfect 
pattern  of  mankind  must  in  one  material  respect  be  as  far  as  pos¬ 
sible  isolated  and  removed  from  the  race  He  came  to  redeem ;  for 
sinlessness  is  a  part  of  the  Divine  thought  concerning  human 
nature. 

If  again  we  take  into  account  the  scope  and  significance  of  His 
redemptive  work,  it  is  vain  to  compare  Christ  with  ‘  other  great 
men.’  He  came  not  merely  as  the  Example,  but  as  the  Redeemer 
and  Saviour  of  humanity.  Were  He  merely  the  Example,  His 
departure  would  have  left  mankind  in  even  deeper  anguish  and 
helplessness  than  before  His  coming.  Man  would  have  seen 
the  Light,  and  felt  its  attraction,  only  to  find  himself  powerless  to 
follow. 

And  thus,  because  Christ  is  a  Man  unlike  all  other  men,  we 
need  in  contemplating  His  character  the  caution  that  ‘  the  Divine 
Reality  is  apart  from,  and  even  greater  than  what  the  greatest  have 
thought  of  it  and  said  of  it.’ 1  The  ideal  conception  of  character 
presented  either  in  Pagan  thought,  or  even  in  the  volume  of  Messi¬ 
anic  prophecy,  has  been  indefinitely  enriched,  and  illuminated  by 
the  Life  which  had  before  been  only  dimly  foreshadowed,  or  at 
the  best  darkly  understood. 

Now  it  may  be  said,  with  no  violation  of  the  proportion  of  truth, 
that  the  most  important  part  of  the  Gospel  revelation  concerned 
man’s  true  relation  to  God.  In  the  forefront  of  Christ’s  teaching 
is  set  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  Fatherhood.  He  impressed  this 
truth  on  men  not  more  by  His  express  utterances,  than  by  the 
example  of  His  own  habitual  attitude  towards  God.  It  may  be 
justly  allowed  that  our  Lord  taught  and  displayed  among  men  ‘  a 
new  type  of  goodness,  the  filial  and  dependent.’  In  Him  we  see 
the  activity  of  ‘  a  perfectly  filial  will.’ 2 

and  an  Art.  in  the  Church  Quart  Rev.,  July,  1SS3 ,  on  f  Our  Lord’s  Human 
Example.’  For  what  follows,  cp.  Martensen,  Ethics  (General),  pp.  242.  2^6. 

1  Dean  Church,  Serm.  on  Christ’s  Example  [Gifts  of  Civilization.  Serm. 
iii.]. 

2  R.  H.  Hutton.  Essay  on  the  Incarnation  and  Principles  of  Evidence. 
Cp.  the  remarkable  definition  of  Lactantius,  Div.  Inst.,  iii.  9:  ‘  Pietas  nihil 
aliud  est  quam  Dei  parentis  agnitiol  lb.  10  :  ‘  Efficitur  ut  is  agnoscat  Deum, 
qui  unde  ortus  sit,  quasi  recordetur.’ 


412  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

It  will  be  useful  to  expand  this  suggestive  thought  somewhat 
more  fully. 

First,  then,  we  see  in  Christ  the  perfect  example  of  filial  depen¬ 
dence  on  God.1  This  dependence  is  not  mere  passivity  of  will,  — 
such  as  the  record  of  the  Temptation  exhibits  ;  not  simply  a  con¬ 
fiding  trust  in  the  providence  and  sustaining  power  of  God.  We 
rather  see  in  Christ's  spirit  of  dependence  a  motive  which  impels 
Him  to  fearless,  unfettered  activity,  and  supports  Him  under  the 
keenest  stress  of  trial  and  suffering.  He  speaks  and  acts  ever  as 
One  Who,  in  each  situation,  is  aware  of  the  controlling  hand  of 
infinite  Wisdom  and  Love.  He  has  that  entire  security  in  the 
certainty  of  Divine  guidance,  to  which  no  emergency  comes  as  a 
surprise,  no  call  for  action  brings  disturbance.  He  knows  that 
‘  the  works  ’  which  tax  His  human  faculties  and  wear)-  His  bodily 
frame,  are  such  as  the  Father  ‘  has  given  Him  to  perfect/  A  filial 
trustfulness  is  thus  the  secret  at  once  of  His  energy  and  His 
repose  ;  His  promptness  in  action  and  His  calmness  in  awaiting 
the  suitable  moment  for  it;  His  unbroken  heavenly-mindedness 
and  His  self-spending  devotion  in  ministry  and  works  of  love.  It 
makes  possible  the  majestic  serenity  which  never  deserts  Him 
during  the  scenes  of  His  Passion.  ‘  I  am  not  alone,’  He  says, 
1  because  the  Father  is  with  Me.’ 2 

In  such  a  spirit  of  dependence  may  be  recognized  the  true  law 
of  creaturely  life  ;  and  there  is  nothing  in  that  spirit  which  degrades 
or  impairs  the  true  dignity  of  human  nature.  Nay,  there  is  some¬ 
thing  in  this  dependence  of  a  filial  heart  which  seems  to  chasten 
and  exalt  the  character,  while  it  quickens  the  intelligence  of  man. 
For  in  fulfilling  his  own  true  law,  and  responding  to  the  will  of  his 
Maker,  man  finds  himself  admitted  to  the  secret  of  the  universe ; 
he  is  in  harmony  with  the  purpose  that  underlies  and  guides  its 
entire  movement.  So  also,  we  venture  to  say,  it  is  with  the  Ideal 
Man.  ‘  Everywhere  He  sees  the  Divine  unity  of  thought  which 
permeates,  embraces,  and  binds  all  things  together,  the  spiritual 
and  the  material,  the  visible  and  the  invisible,  the  earthly  and  the 
heavenly,  in  one  vast  economy.’ 3  To  Him  the  promise  seems  ful¬ 
filled,  ‘  Thou  shalt  be  in  league  with  the  stones  of  the  field,  and 
the  beasts  of  the  field  shall  be  at  peace  with  thee.’  To  Him  the 

1  See  Trench,  Syn.  of  the  N.  T.,  §  42  (on  Taveivo(ppo(rvvri).  *  In  His 
Human  Nature  [Christ]  must  be  the  pattern  of  all  humility,  of  all  creaturely 
dependence.  .  .  .  He  evermore,  as  Man,  took  the  place  which  beseemed  the 
creature  in  the  presence  of  its  Creator.’ 

2  St.  John  xvi.  32. 

3  Martensen,  Ethics  (General),  p.  255.  Cp.  Job  v.  23. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics . 


413 


world  of  humanity,  and  the  world  of  physical  nature  disclose  their 
inner  law;  He  knows  what  is  in  them;  He  intuitively  reads  their 
secret ;  He  can  trace  beneath  the  apparent  discords  of  the  uni¬ 
verse  the  outlines  of  a  broken  but  recoverable  harmony.  And 
thus  the  attitude  of  filial  dependence  on  God  is  found  to  be  the 
condition  of  a  right  relation  to  all  that  He  has  made  ;  it  opens  the 
way  to  a  true  understanding  of  God’s  ways,  and  of  that  living 
principle  of  Love  which  binds  all  things  in  one,  —  binds  them 
indeed 

‘  By  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God.’ 

Next,  we  may  contemplate  Christ’s  character  as  the  type  of 
filial  obedience} — -of  a  complete  harmony  between  human  will 
and  the  law  of  holiness.  In  Christ  the  ideal  qf  free  will  is  realized.1 2 
We  are  not  now  concerned  with  the  vast  issues  of  that  sinless 
obedience.  It  is  enough  to  study  it  as  embodying  a  principle  of 
purely  human  perfection,  enjoined  indeed  repeatedly  in  the  Old 
Testament  as  the  one  condition  of  covenantal  union  with  God, 
but  once  only  in  history  adequately  fulfilled  in  a  human  life.  Obe¬ 
dience,  based  on  absolute  trust  in  the  character  and  purpose  of 
God ;  an  ‘  obedience  of  faith,’  yet  in  its  essence  the  obedience  not 
of  a  servant,  but  of  a  son ;  an  obedience  that  refuses  nothing, 
shrinks  from  nothing,  questions  nothing  that  presents  itself  as 
Divine  requirement ;  such  is  seen  to  be  the  law  of  Christ’s  Life, 
the  law  to  Him  of  action  and  of  endurance,  the  rule  of  prayer, 
the  principle  of  sacrifice,  the  motive  of  service,  the  well-spring  of 
thanksgiving  and  joy.  If  the  entire  completeness  of  this  obedience 
becomes  One  Who  wears  ‘  the  form  of  a  servant,  ’  the  willingness 
of  it  marks  the  glad  service  of  a  Son.  And  because  the  fulfil¬ 
ment  by  Jesus  of  the  Father’s  will  is  spontaneous,  free,  whole¬ 
hearted,  sacrificial,  it  wins  acceptance  as  the  offering  of  One 
‘  well-pleasing  ’  and  ‘  beloved.’  Perfected  by  submission  to  suffer¬ 
ing  and  death,  the  obedience  of  Jesus  is  stamped  with  the  token 
of  Divine  satisfaction  by  His  rising  from  the  dead. 

And  finally,  Christ  is  the  perfect  pattern  of  filial  love.  He 
taught  the  human  heart  that  the  All- Holy  God  can  be  the  object 
of  its  highest  affection,  its  purest  passion,  its  deepest  joy.  In 
Christ  we  see  the  filial  character  consummated ;  in  Him  we  find 

1  Christ’s  earthly  life  and  work  are  described  summarily  as  inraKorj,  Rom. 
v.  19.  Cp.  Phil.  ii.  8. 

2  Aug.  de  Praed.  Sanct.  xxx  :  *  An  ...  in  II lo  non  libera  voluntas  erat, 
ac  non  tanto  magis  erat,  quanto  magis  peccare  non  poterat?’  Quoted  by 
Liddon,  Bampt.  Lect.  [ed.  11],  note  c. 


414 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 


the  union  of  serene  repose  with  consuming  zeal,  unwavering  loy¬ 
alty,  and  sympathetic  self-devotion  to  the  Father’s  work ;  in  other 
words,  we  find  creaturely  perfection,  combined  with  the  spirit  of 
sonship.  In  many  and  mysterious  ways  indeed,  does  this  filial 
love  of  the  true  Son  display  itself :  in  a  hunger  and  thirst  after 
righteousness ;  in  a  patience  which  can  bide  the  time,  and  endure 
the  chastisements,  of  God ;  in  an  overflowing  tenderness  towards 
all  God-created  beings  because  they  are  His,  and  in  their  measure 
bear  witness  of  Him ;  in  a  faith  which  ‘  hopeth  all  things  ’  and 
labors  to  make  all  things  perfect.  Such  is  the  spirit  of  the  Son  ; 
and  we  4  learn  of  Him  ’  the  loftiness  of  the  height  to  which  a  filial 
love  of  God  may  raise  human  character,  the  tenacious  strength  it 
may  impart  to  human  will,  the  peace  it  may  shed  on  a  human 
heart.  Love  is  *  the  bond  of  perfectness,’  and  to  wear  the  image 
of  the  Son  is  to  be  conformed  through  Love  to  the  likeness  of  the 
Father  Himself.1 

The  example  of  virtue  is  thus  seen  in  a  character  of  which 
some  aspects  have  been  just  considered ;  and  we  may  pause  at 
this  point,  in  order  to  form  some  conclusion  as  to  the  factors  of 
virtuous  action  judged  from  the  Christian  standpoint. 

To  have  moral  worth,  an  action  must  be  the  outcome  of  an 
entire  bent,  or  disposition  of  the  agent  Good  fruit  is  to  be 
expected  only  from  a  good  tree.2  In  the  virtuous  act  the  agent’s 
personality  is  engaged  as  a  whole ;  his  whole  nature  is  directed 
towards  a  single  object.  This  inward  unity  is  perhaps  what  we 
really  mean  by  ‘  simplicity.’  In  such  action,  the  human  being 
most  nearly  approaches  the  concentrated  and  harmonious  energy 
of  the  Divine  Life.3  The  person  acts  as  an  undivided  whole,  each 
part  of  his  nature  is  for  the  time  directed  aright. 

But  we  are  here  reminded  that  man’s  nature  is  disordered  :  it 
can  produce  nothing  truly  good,  except  in  so  far  as  it  is  restored 
to  harmony  by  Divine  power.  God,  says  Thomas  Aquinas,  calls 
us  to  a  supernatural  end,  which  by  his  natural  powers  man  could 
not  attain.  God  Himself  must  therefore  impart  the  supernatural 
principle  necessary  to  aid  man  in  responding  to  the  call.4  No 
act,  in  short,  can  be  strictly  called  *  good  ’  which  is  dissociated 
from  the  direct  action  of  God  :  for  1  there  is  none  good  but  One, 
that  is,  God  ’ : — 


1  Aug.,  de  mor.  Eccl.,  xxiii. :  ‘  Fit  ergo  per  caritatem  ut  conformemur  Deo.’ 

2  Dorner,  pp.  336,  38S.  Cp.  Ecce  Homo,  p.  136. 

3  Arist.,  Eth.,  vii.  14,  §8,  remarks  that  human  nature  is  not  simple  ( airXri ), 
adding  :  e7rel,  elf  too  tj  <pvais  air\rj  ft-q  del  r\  avri]  tt pa£is  tjS'kttt)  ecrrai.  Aib  6  deos 
del  n'iav  Kal  airXqv  xa'ipei  7780107V,  k.  t.  A.  Cp.  Bk.  x.  CC.  4.  §  9>  and  7 >  §  8. 

4  Summa,  i.  iiae.  Qu.  lxii.  Art.  1.  Cp.  St.  Matt.  xix.  17. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


415 


*  O  work  thy  works  in  God  ;  He  can  rejoice  in  nought 
Save  only  in  Himself,  and  what  Himself  has  wrought.’ 1 

We  conclude  that  in  a  good  action  there  is  a  true  harmony  of  the 
different  elements  in  personality,  —  intelligence,  affection,  will ; 
and  further  that  such  harmony  presupposes  the  action  of  super¬ 
natural  power  on  man’s  nature.  It  agrees  with  this  that  Chris¬ 
tian  moralists  give  to  the  chief  principles  of  virtuous  action  the 
name  of  4  theological  virtues,’  and  regard  them  as  supernaturally 
imparted. 

A  good  action,  then,  implies  right  intelligence.  There  must  be 
an  exercise  of  faith,  which  is  a  principle  of  knowledge,  —  a  corre¬ 
spondence  between  human  faculties  and  an  unseen  object.  Faith 
accepts  the  good  as  the  proper  element  of  man’s  perfection  ;  takes 
God  at  His  word,  and  aims  at  pleasing  Him.  4  Without  faith  it  is 
impossible  to  please  Him.’ 2  Next,  will  asserts  itself.  Will  is 
directed  towards  an  end  desirable  and  attainable  by  effort,  and 
thus  is  inspired  by  Hope.  A  study  of  Christ’s  example  suggests 
that  the  highest  object  of  hope  for  man  is  the  perfection  of  his 
nature  through  the  means  appointed  by  God.3  We  see  in  Christ 
something  of  the  desire  and  the  joy  of  moral  achievement.  When 
He  said  that  4  the  workman  is  worthy  of  his  reward,’  He  pointed 
to  the  possibility  of  a  true,  unselfish  pleasure  in  good  work  as 
such  :  of  that  thirst  for  perfection  and  self-dissatisfaction  which 
distinguishes  the  true  artist  from  common  men. 

Lastly,  there  remains  that  which  is  the  dominant  factor  in  Chris¬ 
tian  goodness,  Love.  There  is  an  element  of  passion  in  Christlike 
holiness,  which  differentiates  it  from  philosophic  conceptions  of 
virtue  as  a  tranquil,  balanced  state.4  Love  gives  worth  to  the 
fulfilment  of  duty ;  embraces,  in  union  with  God,  the  Divine  aim 
of  creation ;  and  manifests  itself  in  spontaneity  and  inventive 
activity,  transforming  the  fulfilment  of  obligation  into  an  occasion 
of  joyous  and  delightful  service.  Our  Lord  represents  this  ‘ardent, 

1  Abp.  Trench. 

2  Heb.  xi.  6.  Cp.  1  St.  John  iv.  16;  Rom.  xiv.  23.  Summa,  i.  iiae-  Qu. 
lxii.  art.  3,  ‘  Quantum  ad  intellectum  adduntur  homini  quaedam  principia 
supernaturalia,  quae  divino  lumine  capiuntur ;  et  haec  sunt  credibilia  de 
quibus  est  tides.’  lb.  art.  4  :  ‘  Per  fidem  apprehendit  intellectus  ea  quae 
sperat  et  amat.  Unde  opportet  quod  ordine  generationis  tides  praecedat 
spem  et  caritatem.’ 

3  St.  John  iv.  34;  v.  36;  xvii.  4.  Cp.  H.  S.  Holland,  Serm.  on  ‘The 
Energy  of  Unselfishness.’  With  regard  to  the  relation  of  Pleas7ire  to  action, 
we  may  observe  that  pleasure  is  inseparable  from  the  right  and  effective 
exercise  of  any  faculty,  and  therefore  accompanies  virtuous  activity,  but  can 
never  be  the  moral  end  of  action.  Cp.  Arist.,  Eth.,  vii.  12,  §  3,  etc. 

4  See  Ecce  Homo,  c.  xiii. 


4i  6 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


passionate,  devoted  state  ’  of  heart  as  the  real  root  of  virtue. 
Without  it  the  most  punctilious  obedience  is  nothing ;  for  not  to 
love  is  not  to  live.1 

Having  thus  indicated  the  place  of  intelligence,  will,  and  af¬ 
fection  in  virtuous  activity,  we  are  free  to  study  the  Christian 
character,  and  perhaps  ascertain  its  permanent  features,  —  those 
elements  in  it  which  have  survived  the  test  of  such  wide  variety  of 
historical  conditions.  We  have  to  inquire  what  is  common  to  the 
types  of  Christian  life  which  different  ages,  states  of  civilization, 
and  forms  of  nationality  have  produced?  For  character  is  that 
which  is  capable  of  development  in  varied  situations,  of  free  and 
spontaneous  self-adaptation  to  every  change  of  environment.  Cir¬ 
cumstance  proves  its  quality,  offers  it  a  field  of  exercise,  and 
ministers  to  its  growth. 

Our  task  is  rather  to  sketch  a  character  than  to  classify  virtues. 
*  The  earliest  Christians/  says  the  writer  of  Ecce  Homo ,  ‘  felt  a 
natural  repugnance  to  describe  the  goodness  at  which  they  aimed 
by  the  name  of  Virtue.’  Within  limits  indeed  such  a  classification 
is  possible  :  and  a  principle  of  division  may  be  applied  even  to  a 
thing  so  mysterious,  so  subtle  in  its  shapes  and  gradations,  so 
fruitful  in  surprises,  as  character.  We  may,  for  instance,  take  as  a 
basis  the  principle  of  personality,  and  consider  the  Christian  per¬ 
sonality  in  its  threefold  relationship :  to  God,  to  itself,  to  its 
neighbor,  and  in  contact  with  the  hindrances,  moral  and  physical, 
presented  by  its  environment.2 

I.  The  Christian  personality  in  relation  to  God. 

The  distinctive  feature  of  Christian  character  consists  in  con¬ 
sciousness  of  that  filial  relation  to  God  which  Grace  restores ;  of 
the  spiritual  bond  that  exists  between  the  human  soul  and  ‘  Him 
who  is  invisible.’  Hence  the  goodness  at  which  the  Christian 
aims  is  that  which  will  bear  the  searching  light  of  the  Divine  eye. 
‘  He  chose  us  out  of  the  world/  says  St.  Paul,  ‘that  we  might  be 
holy  and  blameless  before  Him.  ’  Thus  in  its  essence  Christian 
character  is  based  on  a  peculiar  sense  of  relationship  to  God ; 
there  underlies  it  a  constant  desire  of  union  with  God,  a  temper  of 
loyalty,  a  spirit  of  thankful  dependence,  a  feeling  of  nearness  to 
the  Divine  presence.  Were  it  true,  as  has  been  said,  that  ‘the 

1  Aug.,  de  mor.  Eccl.,  xix  :  ‘Id  ipsum  quo  diligimus  Deurn  mori  non 
potest,  nisi  dum  non  diligit  Deum  :  cum  mors  ipsa  sit  non  diligere  Deura.’ 
Cp.  Cyp.,  de  Unit.,  xiv. 

2  Such  classification,  corresponding  to  three  cardinal  virtues,  seems  to  be 
implied  in  St.  Paul’s  words,  Tit.  ii.  12:  ha  .  .  .  <rw(pp6i'u>$,  Kal  ducaiws  na\ 
evcrefiws  (rjcrw/j.ei'. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


Divine  service’  had  ‘ become  human  service,’1  Christian  character 
as  a  distinct  type  would  have  ceased  to  be. 

From  this  attitude  of  mind  and  will  two  results  follow  :  first, 
singleness  of  aim,  —  the  ‘single  eye.’  The  sense  of  personal 
relation  to  God  gives  directness,  truthfulness,  simplicity  to  speech, 
action,  and  thought.  So  far  as  he  is  true  to  his  profession  a 
Christian  is  independent  of  the  current  opinions  of  his  age 
or  community,  seeking  only  to  live  ‘  in  all  good  conscience  ’ 
towards  God.  The  conviction  of  an  unseen  Presence  guides 
his  actions;  an  unseen  Witness  penetrates  his  thought;  an  unseen 
Master  holds  him  accountable.  Indeed  St.  Paul  seems  to  regard 
holy  living  as  consisting  simply  in  the  endeavor  to  1  please  God.’ 2 

And  a  second  characteristic  of  the  Christian  is  his  view  of  life  in 
the  world,  of  nature,  of  humanity  itself.  He  observes,  judges, 
estimates  all  things  from  the  standpoint  of  the  spiritual  mind.  He 
aims  at  bringing  his  own  thoughts  and  desires  into  harmony 
with  the  Divine  will  and  purpose.  He  looks  out  on  the  world, 
with  its  complex  social  order,  its  fascinating  interest,  its  appealing 
needs,  as  a  sphere  in  which  for  a  while  he  is  called  to  move  and  to 
labor.  Into  the  varied  tasks  and  interests  of  life  he  can  throw 
himself  with  large-hearted  sympatlry,  and  with  the  greater  fervor 
because  the  time  is  short,  and  the  need  of  self-forgetful  activity 
urgent.  ‘  Once  a  real  Christian/  writes  Lacordaire,  ‘  the  world  did 
not  vanish  before  my  eyes  ;  it  rather  assumed  nobler  proportions 
as  I  myself  did.  I  began  to  see  therein  a  noble  sufferer  needing 
help.  I  could  imagine  nothing  comparable  to  the  happiness  of 
ministering  to  it  under  the  eye  of  God,  with  the  help  of  the  Cross 
and  the  Gospel  of  Christ.’ 3 

Put  the  world  is  not  the  Christian’s  1  abiding  city.’  He  walks  in 
it  and  passes  through  it  in  pilgrim  fashion,  with  heart  detached 
from  it  and  all  that  it  can  give.  He  cannot  commit  himself  to  the 
world,  nor  identify  himself  with  it.  He  has  the  internal  freedom 
of  a  heart  that  has  found  its  true  centre ;  he  is  able  to  estimate 
visible  things  at  their  real  worth,  and 

‘  To  stand  in  freedom  loosened  from  this  world.’ 4 

Thus  to  have  the  ‘  mind  of  Christ  ’  is  to  judge  of  life  and 
the  things  of  time  with  His  judgment,  to  see  with  His  eyes,  to 

1  J.  Cotter  Morison,  The  Service  of  Man,  p.  194  [ed.  3].  See  Eph.  i.  4; 
Col.  i.  22;  St.  Luke  i.  75. 

2  Rom.  viii.  8;  I  Col.  vii.  32;  I  Thess.  iv.  1.  An  instructive  contrast 
might  be  drawn  between  the  Pagan  and  Christian  use  of  the  word  dpecr/ceia. 

3  Lacordaire  :  a  Biographical  Sketch,  II.  S.  Lear,  p.  34. 

4  Wordsworth,  The  Excursion.  Ep.,  ad  Diog.,  v.  :  tt aaa  £evr]  irarpis  ia tlv 

27 


41 8  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation, 

be  inspired  by  His  Wisdom.  So  we  find  ourselves  in  natural 
contact  with  the  division  of  character  by  ‘  cardinal  virtues.’ 

‘  Prudence  ’  or  ‘  Wisdom  ’  is  the  outcome  of  a  right  relation 
to  God.  God  only,  St.  Augustine  says,  is  to  be  loved ;  this 
world,  and  all  sensible  things,  are  to  be  used.  Prudence  is 
love  discerning  between  the  things  which  bring  it  nearer  to  God, 
and  those  which  hinder  it  from  approaching  Hun.1 

II.  In  relation  to  humanity,  and  creaturely  life  in  general, 
the  Christian  finds  scope  for  ‘'active  morality,’2  for  ministering 
love.  The  life  of  union  with  God  inspires  and  prompts  the  life  of 
service  to  mankind.  The  infinitely  varied  relationships  of  life 
constitute  so  many  forms  of  moral  obligation.  Christian  Justice 
means  nothing  less  than  rendering  to  all  their  due.  The  desire  to 
imitate  God  is  at  once  the  motive  and  the  rule  of  Christian  activ¬ 
ity.3  And  this  desire  finds  expression  in  two  distinctively  Christian 
graces  :  the  spirit  of  forgivetiess  and  the  spirit  of  compassion. 

The  inculcation  of  forgiveness  is  ‘  the  most  striking  innovation  ’ 
in  the  ethics  of  the  Gospel.4  Greek  thought  on  the  subject 
presents  a  remarkable  contrast.  Aristotle  is  inclined  to  regard 
forgiveness  as  a  form  of  weakness,  but  allied  to  virtue  in  so  far  as 
it  involves  resistance  to  passion.  The  ground  of  Christian  for¬ 
giveness  is  very  different.  The  duty  of  it  follows  partly  of  course 
from  a  consideration  of  the  common  human  nature  which  the 
offender  shares  with  the  injured ;  partly  also  from  a  dispassionate 
view  of  the  injury  inflicted.  In  exercising  forgiveness  we  suppress 
that  false  self-love  or  partiality  which  magnifies  a  private  injury. 
The  Christian  loves  himself  not  more  than  he  loves  his  neighbor. 
He  can  put  himself  in  the  offender’s  place,  and  consider  what  is 
for  his  highest  good.  He  will  not  allow  the  sense  of  injury  to 
interfere  with  or  override  the  exercise  of  good-will  even  towards 
enemies.  Certainly  the  sense  of  his  own  moral  frailty,  and  of  his 
indebtedness  to  Divine  mercy,  will  restrain  the  Christian  from 
vindictiveness  or  harshness  in  regard  to  the  faults  of  others ;  while 
the  fact  of  the  equality  of  men  in  relation  to  their  common  Father, 


avrav  Kal  7r acra  irarph  £evv-  This  spirit  does  not  exclude  a  true  patriotism , 
and  other  civil  virtues.  Martensen,  Ethics  (Social),  §  82. 

1  De  mor.  Eccl.,  xxxvii.  and  xxv.  Cp.  Bern.,  de  Consid. ,  v.  1. 

2  See  the  chap,  with  this  title  in  Ecce  Homo. 

3  St.  Matt.  v.  44  foil.  Leo,  Serm.  in  Quad.,  vii.  ‘  Forma  conversation^ 
fidelium  ab  exemplo  venit  operum  divinorum  et  merito  Deus  imitationem 
Sui  ab  eis  exigit,  quos  ad  imaginem  et  similitudinem  suam  fecit.’  Cp. 
Iren.,  iv.  13,  3. 

4  Ecce  Homo,  c.  xxii.  Cp.  Butler,  Serm.  ix.  etc. 


xii.  CJi  risi  i an  E th  ics . 


419 


invests  even  the  anti-social  sinner  with  the  dignity  of  brotherhood.1 
But  forgiving  love  is  no  mere  expression  of  self-distrust.  It  is  fired 
by  something  of  the  generous  hopefulness,  the  quickness  to  detect 
latent  capacities  of  nobleness  even  in  the  worst,  which  is  the  glory 
of  the  Divine  forgiveness.  It  ‘  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but 
rejoiceth  with  the  truth ;  ’  ‘  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things.’ 
The  Greek  indeed  had  his  idea  of  forbearance ;  to  him  it  meant 
something  less  than  strict  justice ;  it  was  a  virtue  difficult  to 
place  or  estimate.  Logically,  it  was  scarcely  to  be  praised.  At 
the  best  it  would  never  have  implied  the  habitual  duty  of  active 
forgiveness. 

Not  less  distinctive  of  the  Christian  character  is  cotnpassion,2 
and  the  active  beneficence  which  results  from  it.  Humanity, 
by  Jesus  Christ,  was  transformed:  it  was  ‘changed  (to  adopt 
a  celebrated  phrase)  from  a  restraint  to  a  motive.’  Compassion 
may  display  itself  in  readiness  both  to  relieve  the  physical  needs 
of  another,  and  to  edify  his  character.  To  love  one’s  fellow-man 
as  one’s  self  implies  willingness  to  benefit  him  in  body  and  estate 
by  every  means ;  but  it  is  also  incompatible  with  unconcern 
or  apathy  as  to  his  spiritual  and  moral  welfare.  Love  is  comunica- 
tive,  and  will  not  withhold  its  best  treasure.  Hence  compassion 
prompts  missionary  activity,  and  zeal  for  moral  and  social  reforms. 
Nor  has  ‘  humanity  ’  ceased  to  be  a  restraint  by  becoming  a  motive. 
Christian  justice  contains  the  principle  of  ‘  innocentia  ’  as  well  as  of 
‘  benevolentia?  ‘  Love  worketh  no  ill  to  his  neighbor ;  ’  it  can 
inflict  no  wrong,  it  can  withhold  no  good  ;  ‘  therefore  love  is  the 
fulfilling  of  the  Law.’3 

Active  morality  has  many  departments.  Duty  to  the  ‘powers 
that  be  ’  —  the  order  of  society,  human  law,  the  State,  the  Church  : 
all  this,  into  which  the  science  of  politics  inquires,  forms  part  of 
the  obligation  involved  in  love  to  man.  How  comprehensive 
is  the  reply  of  an  early  Apologist  to  the  charge  of  disloyalty, 

‘  we  behave  towards  Emperors  exactly  as  we  do  towards  our 

1  Leo,  Serm.  in  quad. passim,  esp.  v.,  vi.,  ix.  Ecce  Homo,  c.  xxiii.  For 
what  follows,  see  Arist.  Eth.  v.  10.  Cp.  Eph.  iv.  32. 

2  Mozlev,  Univ.  Serm.  ix.  ‘Ancient  philosophy  never  opened  the  mine 
of  happiness  which  lay  in  this  principle.  It  was  a  discovery,  like  that  of  a 
new  scientific  principle,  when  it  was  made;  and  Christianity  made  it.’ 

3  Rom.  xiii.  10.  Note  the  following  words  of  St.  Aug.  (de  doct.  Christ.,  i. 
29):  ‘  Velle  debemus,  ut  ovines  nobiscum  diligant  Deum,  et  totum  quod  vel 
eos  adjuvamus  vel  adjuvamur  eis,  ad  unum  ilium  finem  referendum  est.  .  .  . 
Hinc  efficitur  ut  inimieos  etiam  nostros  diligamus.  .  .  .  Misereamur ,  quia 
tanto  magis  nos  oderunt,  quanto  ab  illo  quern  diligimus  separati  sunt.’  Cp.  De 
disc.  Chr. ,  v.  ‘  Necesse  est  ut  quern  diligis  tanquam  te  ipsum,  illuc  ilium  tra- 
has  ad  quod  et  tic  am  as.’  Ecce  Homo,  cc.  xvii.,  xviii. 


4^0 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


neighbors.  To  wish,  or  to  do,  or  to  think  evil  is  equally  forbidden 
to  us  in  any  case.’1  ‘Thou/  cries  St.  Augustine,  apostrophizing 
the  Church,  —  ‘  Thou  bringest  within  the  bond  of  mutual  love 
every  relationship  of  kindred,  every  alliance  of  affinity;  Thou 
unitest  citizen  to  citizen,  nation  to  nation,  man  to  man,  not  only  in 
society,  but  in  fraternity.  Thou  teachest  kings  to  seek  the  welfare 
of  their  peoples,  and  peoples  to  be  subject  to  kings.  .  .  .  Thou 
showest  how  to  all  love  is  due,  and  injury  to  none  ! ’  2 

III.  In  the  life  of  active  beneficence,  self-sacrifice  is  no  ‘occa¬ 
sional  heroism,’  but  an  ‘  habitual  mood.’  3  And  yet  from  the  very 
nature  of  Christian  love  it  follows  that  there  is  a  right  self-regard,  a 
zeal  for  God’s  kingdom  in  the  soul,  a  desire  for  the  highest  welfare 
of  the  personality  as  an  object  of  worth  in  itself,  and  destined  to 
find  its  perfection  in  God. 

Love  to  self  becomes  Temperance ,  that  is,  the  spirit  of  purifying 
discipline.  Thus,  a  mark  of  Christian  character  is  the  passion  for 
holiness  :  i.  e.,  the  desire  to  combine  inward  purity  of  thought,  desire, 
and  motive,  with  the  external  fulfilment  of  duty. 

This  process  of  self-purification  is  both  mental  and  moral.  It 
includes  the  culture  of  imagination  not  less  than  the  control  of 
appetite  :  4  sobriety  ’  not  less  in  judgment  and  reflection  than  in  the 
indulgence  of  desire ;  humility  in  self-estimate,  not  less  than  restraint 
of  passion.4  The  dominant  feature  of  Christian  character  in  this 
connection  is  a  peculiar  self-severity,  a  deep  sense  of  the  ideal  as 
something  not  yet  attained,  a  strict  fidelity  to  known  truth  and  the 
claim  of  moral  law,  sensitiveness  to  moral  evil,  and  watchfulness 
against  even  its  distant  approach  ;  in  a  word,  disciplined  rule  in  the 
affections,  intellect,  and  will.  For  as  the  Hellenist  sage  says  of 
Wisdom,  ‘The  very  true  beginning  of  Her  is  the  desire  of  dis¬ 
cipline,  and  the  beginning  of  discipline  is  love.’ 5  Temperance 
includes  that  reverent  care  of  the  body  which  receives  so  high  a 
sanction  in  the  New  Testament ;  indeed,  respect  for  the  sanctity  of 
the  body  may  be  viewed  as  reverence  for  the  presence  of  God 
Himself,  and  for  the  place  of  His  abode.6 

1  Tert.,  Apol.,  36. 

2  De  mor.  Eccl.,  Ixiii.  [Clark]  Obs.  There  are  duties  imposed  by  our 
relationship  even  to  the  dead ,  to  posterity ,  and  of  course  to  the  impersonal 
creature.  See  Martensen,  Ethics  (Indiv.),  §§  116-118.  On  duties  to  poster¬ 
ity,  see  a  beautiful  passage  in  Ruskin,  Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,  vi.,  §  9. 

3  Dean  Church,  Disc,  of  the  Christian  Character,  p.  101.  Cp.  Ecce  Homo 
[ed.  13I,  p-  178. 

4  See  Rom.  xii.  3  ;  2  Cor.  x.  5. 

5  Wisdom  vi.  17. 

6  I  Cor.  vi.  19. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


421 


IV.  Finally,  in  relation  to  the  hindrances  which  Virtue  encoun¬ 
ters —  the  stress  of  circumstance,  the  pressure  of  misfortune,  per¬ 
secution,  loss,  temptation,  and  the  like  —  Love  displays  itself  as 
Fortitude ,  and  finds  both  a  passive  and  active  sphere  of  exercise. 

As  a  passive  virtue  fortitude  is  the  ‘  world-resisting  ’  element  in 
character.  The  hostility  of  the  world  to  virtue  is  only  one  form  of 
its  hostility  to  God.1  Fortitude  is  thus  essentially  the  same  in  all 
stages  of  social  development.  When  the  world-principle  was  em¬ 
bodied  in  a  concrete  form,  and  became  in  the  imperial  power  of 
Rome  a  definite  force  hostile  to  the  Church,2  fortitude  displayed 
itself  for  the  most  part  as  patience  under  persecution  (St.  Augus¬ 
tine  in  his  treatment  of  this  virtue  naturally  contemplates  it  under 
this  aspect)  ;  but  the  precise  form  of  influence  to  be  resisted  will 
obviously  vary  from  age  to  age,  while  the  element  of  resistance  in 
Christian  character  remains  constant. 

The  name  of  ‘  fortitude,’  however,  must  not  be  restricted  to  pas¬ 
sive  endurance,  prominent  as  this  virtue  is  in  Christ’s  teaching. 
Fortitude  embraces  spheres  of  action,  and  will  display  itself  on  occa¬ 
sion  as  resentment.  Righteous  anger  has  its  source  in  the  temper 
exactly  opposed  to  Stoic  apathy  respecting  sin  —  that  ‘  loveless 
view  ’  of  mankind  which  said,  ‘  Trouble  not .  thyself ;  thy  neighbor 
sins,  but  he  sins  for  himself.’  3  There  can  be  no  true  love  of  good 
without  a  just  abhorrence  of  evil.  Hence  it  sometimes  occurs  that 
love  takes  the  form  of  indignation  and  holy  zeal  —  when  directed, 
for  example,  against  oppression,  cruelty,  ingratitude,  deceit,  selfish¬ 
ness.  Such  resentment  is  a  natural  and  generous  emotion,  born  of 
sympathy  with  God  Himself.  Comparing  with  the  Christian  con¬ 
ception  of  resentment  Aristotle’s  discussion  of  anger,  we  find  that 
Christian  teachers  lay  stress  on  the  social  end  of  resentment.  What 
the  good  Christian  resents  is  not  a  personal  hurt,  but  injury  and 
wrong-doing  viewed  as  injurious  to  his  neighbor  or  the  community  ; 
such  resentment  is  distinguished  by  purity  of  motive  ;  in  certain 
circumstances  it  is  not  unwilling  to  inflict  pain. 

Moral  courage ,  again,  is  the  form  which  fortitude  assumes  under 
other  circumstances,  too  numerous  to  be  specified.  Generally  it 
is  displayed  on  occasions  when  the  Christian  is  bearing  witness  to 
the  cause  of  truth  or  righteousness  before  men.  No  Christian  can 

1  Ep.  ad  Diog.,  vi.  :  iuctCl  XpiaTiavovs  b  Ko(rp.os  /u.r)dev  aSu<ou[j.evos,  oti  rats 
TjdouaLS  avr lt da aovrai. 

2  See  Westcott,  Essay  on  The  Church  and  the  World  [in  his  ed.  of  St. 
John’s  Epp.]. 

3  Trench,  Svn.  of  N.  T.,  §  xxxvii.  On  ‘  Resentment  ’  see  Ecce  Homo,  c. 
xxi. ;  Butler,  Serm.  viii.  Cp.  Arist.,  Eth.,  iv.  5.  See  also  Dale,  The  Atone¬ 
ment,  Lect.  viii. 


422 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


rid  himself  of  his  share  in  the  function  of  witness ,  committed  to  His 
followers  by  Christ.  And  fortitude,  or  manliness,  is  the  virtue  of  a 
witness,  —  of  the  solitary  champion  of  a  good  cause  confronting 
opposition  in  any  of  its  forms.  The  name  ‘  athlete/  which  we  find 
applied  to  martyrs  in  early  times,  may  remind  us  that  the  task  which 
beyond  others  must  needs  test  a  man’s  power  to  endure,  and  to 
stand  alone,  is  that  of  witnessing  steadfastly  for  righteousness  and 
truth.  Yet  the  call  to  bear  witness  comes  in  ways  unexpected,  and 
difficult  to  define  or  classify ;  it  may,  for  example,  be  a  man’s  diffi¬ 
cult  duty  to  withstand,  not  opponents,  but  adherents  and  friends ; 
to  hold  his  own,  not  against  ‘  the  sneers  and  opposition  of  the  bad, 
but  the  opinion  and  authority  of  the  good.’ 1  With  this  passing 
remark  we  quit  the  subject. 

In  the  above  sketch  of  Christian  character  we  have  confined  our¬ 
selves  to  some  salient  features.  We  have  said  nothing  of  the 
gracious  union  it  presents  of  delicacy  with  strength,  of  communica¬ 
tiveness  with  reserve,  of  energy  with  restfulness,  of  passion  with 
tenderness.  It  is  difficult  to  delineate  character  without  giving  a 
look  of  formality  to  what  is  essentially  a  mysterious,  albeit,  well- 
marked,  product.  In  Christian  goodness  we  see  the  handiwork  of 
the  Spirit  of  God,  and  where  He  is,  there  is  liberty. 

It  is  indeed  objected  that  this  type  of  character  is  too  rare,  too 
exalted  for  the  majority  of  mankind.  It  is  said  that  a  standard  of 
perfection  is  set  before  them  which  it  is  hopeless  to  think  of  attain¬ 
ing  ;  that  men  are  disheartened ;  that  Christian  teachers  ‘  ask  for 
the  impossible,’  and  undermine  belief  in  the  possibility  of  virtue. 
It  is  further  suggested  that  the  rarity  of  the  type  proves  that  the 
saint  ‘  is  born,  not  made ;  ’  and  that  radical  change  of  character 
and  disposition  is  impossible.2 

The  last  point  may  be  noticed  in  another  connection.  At  pres¬ 
ent  we  may  suggest,  in  reply  to  these  reflections,  one  consideration. 
The  objector  forgets  that  Christianity  does  not  merely  present  a 
moral  standard  to  men ;  it  provides  them  with  an  entire  system 
of  moral  education.  The  Church  recognizes  different  degrees  of 
maturity  and  attainment  in  her  children.  It  is  no  part  of  hei 
method,  though  possibly  an  accident  of  a  particular  age  or  set  of 
conditions,  that  she  sets  strong  meat  before  babes,  and  appeals  to 
children  as  if  they  were  grown  men.  That  very  ‘  individual  treat- 

1  Dean  Church,  Gifts  of  Civilization,  p.  323.  Cp.  Martineau,  Types  of 
Eth.  Theory,  ii.  200-202. 

2  See  Service  of  Man,  cc.  vii.  and  ix.  These  objections  have  been  often 
met.  See  Dean  Church,  Sermon  on  ‘  Christ’s  Example.’  Liddon,  Bampt. 
Lect.  [ed.  11]  p.  130. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics . 


423 

merit  ’  of  characters  on  which  the  writer  of  the  ‘  Service  of  Man  ’ 
insists,  is  a  fundamental  principle  of  the  Christian  system.1 

IV.  Christ  the  Source  of  the  Re-creation  of  Character. 

The  subject  which  we  now  approach  is,  taken  as  a  whole,  pecu¬ 
liar  to  Christian  Ethics.  For  it  will  be  admitted  that  Christianity 
alone  offers  a  solution  of  the  practical  problem,  How  is  the  ideal  of 
virtue  to  be  translated  into  life  and  practice  ?  ‘  It  is  the  essential 

weakness,’  says  a  living  writer,  ‘  of  all  mere  systems  of  morality,  and 
of  most,  if  not  all,  other  religions,  that  they  confine  themselves  to 
pointing  out  what  the  facts  of  life  ought  to  be,  and  make  no  pro¬ 
vision  whatever  for  dealing  with  facts  as  they  are.  ...  It  is  their 
main  defect,  not  that  they  conflict  with  Christianity,  but  that  they 
fail  to  touch  the  problem  with  which  it  most  directly  deals/  2  Of 
course,  in  advancing  this  claim  for  Christianity  we  imply  that  it  is 
something  vastly  greater  than  a  system  of  morals.  It  is  a  Divine 
way  of  salvation,  that  is,  of  deliverance  from  sin,  as  well  as  from  its 
effects ;  the  process  by  which  the  ideal  becomes  actual  in  life  and 
character  is  also,  as  we  have  seen,  a  process  of  restoration.  Chris¬ 
tianity,  in  fact,  professes  to  be  a  Divinely  provided  remedy  for  dis¬ 
order  and  disease  ;  strictly  speaking,  therefore,  a  treatise  on  ethics 
must  investigate  the  pathology  of  sin,  regarded  as  the  violation  of 
moral  order,  and  the  fatal  misdirection  of  desire.  This  aspect  of 
the  Gospel  has  been  too  much  disregarded,  even  by  Christian 
thinkers.3  It  follows,  however,  from  the  Scriptural  account  of  man 
that  he  has  lost  something  which  can  only  be  supernaturally 
restored  :  and  it  is  the  practical  task  of  ethics  to  point  out  the 
means  of  renewal,  which  Divine  Wisdom  has  provided. 

The  mysterious  facts  which  lie  at  the  root  of  the  re-creative  pro¬ 
cess  must  be  briefly  noticed.  Christian  holiness  is  the  reproduc¬ 
tion  in  the  individual  of  the  life  of  the  Incarnate  Son  of  God. 
That  this  might  be  possible,  there  took  place  that  series  of  events 
which  St.  John  describes  as  the  glorification  of  Jesus  Christ.  The 
life,  perfectly  well-pleasing  to  God,  and  therefore  the  supreme 

1  Aug.,  de  mor.  Eccl.,  lxiii.  ‘  Tu  [Ecclesia]  pueriliter  pueros,  fortiter 
juvenes,  quiete  senes  prout  cuiusque  non  corporis  tantum,  sed  et  animi  aetas 
est,  exerces  ac  doces,  etc.’  Cp.  Amb.,  de  Off.  Min.,  i.  17. 

2  Wace,  Boyle  Lect.  (ser.  1)  v.  Cp.  Ecce  Homo,  c.  ix.  We  may  consider 
how  Christ  gives  a  practical  turn  to  speculative  inquiries.  St.  Luke  xiii.  23, 
24;  St.  John  xxi.  21  foil. 

3  E.g.  Clem,  of  Alexandria.  See  Bigg,  The  Christian  Platonists  of  Alex¬ 
andria,  p.  So. 


424  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

standard  of  holiness,  passes  through  the  stage  of  death.  The 
Sacrifice  on  Calvary  removes  the  barrier  raised  between  the 
Creator  and  His  creatures  by  sin.  The  Resurrection  is,  on  the 
one  hand,  the  seal  of  God’s  acceptance  stamped  upon  His  Son’s 
atoning  work ;  on  the  other,  marks  the  final  stage  in  that  process 
by  which  Christ’s  human  nature  is  ‘  perfected.’ 1  For  by  the 
Resurrection  that  Nature  is  spiritualized,  is  released  from  earthly 
limitations,  and  becomes  available  as  a  re-creative  force.  The 
Ascension  is  the  condition  of  Christ’s  manifestation  as  ‘  a  quicken¬ 
ing  Spirit,’  as  the  ‘  power  of  God.’  By  sacramental  channels  He 
communicates  to  our  entire  nature  His  life-giving  humanity,  as 
the  means  of  our  re-creation  after  the  image  of  God.  Thus  the 
life  of  the  Incarnate  is  extended  in  the  life  of  the  redeemed,  and 
by  a  natural  and  orderly  growth,  the  character  of  Christ  is  repro¬ 
duced  in  His  members  through  the  continuous  operation  of  the 
Spirit,  whose  office  it  is  to  £  take  of  the  things  of  Christ  and  show 
them  unto’  men.  He  who  is  outwardly  our  example  thus  becomes 
an  inward  principle  of  life. 

We  now  are  in  a  position  to  estimate  the  extent  to  which  Chris¬ 
tian  morality  depends  on  dogmatic  truths.  Apart  from  Jesus 
Christ  there  can  be  no  true  life.  The  secret  of  holiness  lies  in 
a  permanent  relation  to  a  living  Christ.  He,  by  His  life  and 
death,  *'  became  unto  us  Wisdom,  Righteousness,  Sanctification, 
Redemption.’ 2  The  example  was  not  upheld  in  vain  ;  for  Christ 
placed  within  our  reach  the  spiritual  forces  by  which  alone  the 
pattern  can  be  reproduced  in  human  life.  ‘  Sanctification  ’  means 
the  progressive  appropriation  by  man  of  the  life  of  the  Son  of 
God ;  the  formation  in  him,  by  successive  stages,  of  the  very 
image  of  Christ.  The  objective  aspect  of  sanctification  is  clearly 
presented  in  the  Old  Testament ;  holiness  there  implies  consecra¬ 
tion,  and  is  thought  of  chiefly  as  an  objective  work  of  God.  In 
the  New  Testament,  the  idea  of  holiness  passes  from  the  sphere 
of  worship  to  that  of  morality.  But  the  Old  Testament  concep¬ 
tion  is  not  lost ;  it  is  expanded.  Holiness,  according  to  the  Chris¬ 
tian  view,  results  not  from  the  efforts  of  man,  but  from  the  outflow 
and  operation  of  a  Divine  Life.  Holiness  is  spoken  of  as  ‘the 
righteousness  of  God,’  as  a  ‘  free  gift  ’  imparted  to  man ;  and  in 
the  first  instance  requires  receptivity  rather  than  activity  on  the 
part  of  the  human  soul. 

1  St.  Luke  xiii.  32  ;  Heb.  ii.  10,  v.  9.  Cp.  1  Cor.  xv.  45  ;  and  see  Gal.  ii. 
20,  iv.  19.  Also  an  Art.  in  Ch.  Qu.  Rev.,  No.  xxxii.,  on  ‘  Our  Lord’s  LIuman 
Example.’ 

2  1  Cor.  i.  30.  Cp.  Rom.  viii.  29.  For  the  thought  that  follows,  see  Pro¬ 
fessor  Bruce  on  Heb.  ii.  11-1S  in  Expositor,  No.  50. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics . 


425 


The  ethical  significance  of  baptism  is  thus  intelligible.  By 
baptism  the  individual  is  brought  into  vital  contact  with  the  Source 
of  the  new  life,  and  enters  the  sphere  within  which  radiate  the 
spiritual  forces  that  flow  from  the  glorified  humanity  of  Christ ; 
the  germ  of  a  new  persotiality  is  imparted  ;  the  kingdom  of  God 
is  entered.  But  in  this  new  birth  the  work  is  only  begun ;  for  the 
‘  Grace  of  God  that  bringeth  salvation  ’  has  an  abiding  home  among 
men.  It  is  misleading  to  speak  of  Grace  as  ‘  an  unknown  factor.’ 
Still  more  so  to  assert  that  ‘  Theology  has  always  been  celebrating 
the  power  of  Grace,  to  the  depreciation  of  Ethics.’ 1  Grace  has 
its  fixed  channels  and  methods,  its  orderly  movement  and  outflow, 
its  certain  conditions,  its  appointed  places  and  seasons,  its  definite, 
though  mysterious,  laws  of  operation.2  Grace  is,  so  to  speak, 
stored  and  dispensed  within  the  mediatorial  kingdom  which  Christ 
founded  in  His  Church.  From  an  ethical  standpoint  the  Church 
of  God  is  before  all  else  a  school  of  character ,3  the  Divinely 
appointed  sphere  in  which,  normally,  the  re-creation  of  personality 
proceeds,  in  which  men  are  sanctified  by  being  kept  in  living 
union  and  contact  with  Jesus  Christ  Himself. 

To  enumerate  the  several  ‘  means  of  grace  ’  committed  to  the 
stewardship  of  the  Church  is  the  task  of  theology,  as  also  to 
explain  the  conditions  of  fruitfully  using  them.  On  one  point  only 
it  may  be  worth  while  to  make  a  few  remarks. 

To  Christianity,  as  we  have  seen,  each  individual  personality  is 
an  end  in  itself.  Each  has  a  right  to  moral  education ;  each  was 
called  into  being  that  it  might  embody  a  particular  thought  of  God, 
that  it  might  fulfil  good  works  prepared  specially  for  it,  and  cor¬ 
respond  with  its  own  separate  ideal.4  Hence,  true  to  the  spirit 
of  Him  who  was  a  Physician  of  the  sick,  Christianity  offers  her 
Divine  remedies  to  the  worst  and  most  hardened  natures.  She 
believes  in  her  power  to  renew  and  transfigure  them,  to  achieve 
in  them  a  moral  miracle.  Nobler  natures,  again,  she  endeavors 
to  train  up  to  the  full  stature  of  Christ-like  character,  sanctifying, 
consecrating,  and  elevating  the  innate  capacities  of  each.  Her 
healing  mission  extends  to  all  men.  She  knows  nothing  of  the 
aristocratic  temper  of  ancient  ethics,  which  would  confine  the  very 
possibility  of  a  moral  life  to  the  few.  She  rejoices  in  the  infinite 

1  Service  of  Man,  pp.  84,  85. 

~  Chrys.,  in  Joh.,  hom.  x.  2  :  a/j.a  Se  Kal  evSetjjacrflcu  /Soi'Aerai  8ti  ovy^  o.ttX'2s 
ovSe  7]  xapis  zTreLaiv,  aAAa  ro'is  0ov\o/aeuots  Kal  ecnrovdaKoai,  k  t.A. 

3  See  Tit.  ii.  11,  12:  i]  •  •  •  Traidevovaa  r)/uas.  St.  Matt,  xxviii.  19,  20. 

Aug  ,  de  disc.  Chr.,  i. :  ‘  Discipline  domus  est  Ecclesia  Christi.’  liutler,  Anal¬ 
ogy,  pt.  ii.  c.  1. 

•4  Consider  Col.  i.  28;  Eph.  ii.  10. 


426 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


variety  of  typical  forms  which  character  may  assume.  A  Christian 
poet  has  said,  — 

‘  There  is  not  on  the  earth  a  soul  so  base 
But  may  obtain  a  place, 

In  covenanted  grace ; 

So  that  his  feeble  prayer  of  faith  obtains 
Some  loosening  of  his  chains 
And  earnests  of  the  great  release,  which  rise 
From  gift  to  gift,  and  reach  at  length  the  eternal  prize. 

‘All  may  save  self  ;  — but  minds  that  heavenward  tower 
Aim  at  a  wider  power, 

Gifts  on  the  wrorld  to  shower. 

And  this  is  not  at  once  ;  by  fastings  gained 
And  trials  well  sustained  ; 

By  pureness,  righteous  deeds,  and  toils  of  love, 

Abidance  in  the  truth,  and  zeal  for  God  above/1 

Now  this  idea  of  individual  perfection,  so  characteristic  of 
Christianity,  is  in  the  New  Testament  not  dissociated  from  the 
idea  of  a  society,  family,  or  household  of  God,  in  which  alone  the 
full  development  of  Christian  character  can  be  achieved.  Cor¬ 
porate  life,  with  its  network  of  relationships,  its  mutual  services, 
its  common  worship,  its  visible  pledges  of  brotherhood,  —  this  is 
God’s  great  instrument  in  the  edification  of  character.  So  far, 
indeed,  as  the  body  is  divided  or  weakened,  the  pressure  it  exerts 
on  the  individual  is  hindered,  and  the  free  play  of  its  forces 
diminished.2 

In  the  Church,  then,  we  have  the  true  school  of  character,  the 
true  ‘  home  of  individuality,’  and  sphere  of  spiritual  edification. 
The  normal  course  of  spiritual  growth  is  one  of  widely  varied 
experiences ;  it  passes  through  the  stage  of  repentance  with  its 
appropriate  works  ;  it  is  schooled  by  the  chastening  discipline  of 
common  life  ; 3  it  is  marked  by  progressive  power  of  submission  to 
the  leadings  of  grace.  This  would  suggest  an  interesting  line  of 
study,  and  one  suitable  for  ethical  treatment,  but  must  not  now 

1  Lyra  Apostolica,  No.  xxxvii.  [signed  5]. 

2  Consider  Phil.  ii.  2,  where  the  description  of  the  Christian  example  and 
character  is  prefaced  by  an  impressive  appeal  for  Unity.  The  moral  guilt  of 
heresy  partly  lies  in  its  being  a  principle  of  disunion.  Cvp.,  de  Unit.,  xxvi., 
complains  of  particular  ways  in  which  disunion  injures  Christian  character. 

3  Bruce  (Expositor,  No.  50,  p.  84).  ‘  God’s  paternal  discipline,  our  own 

self-effort,  Christ’s  example,  priestly  influence,  and  sympathy,  all  contribute 
to  the  same  end,  persistency  and  progress  in  the  Christian  life.’  It  is  speci¬ 
ally  instructive  to  contrast  the  Christian  with  the  Pagan  estimation  oi  Labor, 
as  a  factor  in  the  formation  of  character.  See  Martensen,  Ethics  (Social), 
p.  129. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


427 


detain  us.  It  is  advisable,  however,  in  this  connection  not  to  over¬ 
look  the  subject  of  Christian  ascetics ;  a  word  which  has  often  ex¬ 
cited  unjust  suspicion  and  contempt,  and  thereby  been  robbed  of 
the  noble  associations  which  rightfully  belong  to  it. 

The  name  ‘  ascetics  ’  is  suitably  applied  to  those  Divinely 
sanctioned  exercises  which,  by  precept  and  example,  Christ  com¬ 
mended  as  aids  to  holiness,  Prayer,  Almsgiving,  and  Fasting. 
Reflection,  indeed,  shows  that  these  ordinances  occupy  a  con¬ 
spicuous  place  in  the  Gospel,  because  they  have  a  natural  connec¬ 
tion  with  the  three  principal  spheres  of  Christian  duty,  —  duty 
towards  God,  towards  man,  towards  self.  They  are  ways  in  which 
devotion  to  God,  love  to  man,  discipline  of  self,  find  each  an 
appropriate  expression.  Reason  and  experience  alike  suggest  that 
the  Christian  character,  with  its  harmonious  beauty  and  delicate 
strength,  can  only  be  the  product  of  continuous  spiritual  discip¬ 
line,  wise  restraint,  and  regulated  effort.  A  feature,  therefore,  of 
Christ’s  practical  teaching  is  His  provision  for  what  is,  to  average 
human  nature,  at  least  a  moral  necessity.  Presenting  Himself  as 
the  supreme  example  of  the  freedom  which  can  control  and  use 
circumstances  for  a  spiritual  end,  He  lays  down  the  threefold  rule 
of  Christian  ascetics  to  guide  the  wills  and  affections  of  those  whom 
He  calls  to  follow  His  steps. 

The  end  of  discipline  is,  of  course,  freedom  ;  that  is,  the  perfect 
dominion  of  the  Spirit  in  man.  Aiming  at  this  liberty,  the  Chris¬ 
tian  looks  on  the  threefold  ordinance  of  prayer,  almsgiving,  and 
fasting  as  a  help  to  his  development ;  it  is  to  him  no  mere  arbi¬ 
trary  direction  imposed  by  authority,  no  vexatious  restraint  on 
lawful  pleasure,  but  an  efficacious  aid  to  Christ-like  holiness  com¬ 
mended  by  the  practice,  and  proved  by  the  experience,  of  holy 
men  in  every  age,  and  expressly  enjoined  by  our  Lord  Himself.1 

It  may  surprise  us  somewhat  to  find  Pi'ayer  included  among 
ascetic  exercises.  For  prayer  is  the  ordinary  activity  of  the  human 
spirit  in  relation  to  God ;  man’s  natural  expression  of  self-dedica¬ 
tion ;  his  effort  to  embrace  God’s  Will  as  his  choice,  God's  Law 
as  his  rule,  God’s  Perfection  as  his  pattern.  Yet  because  prayer 
implies  regularity,  discipline,  persevering  effort ;  because  it  has  its 
different  parts,  its  proper  occasions  and  methods ;  because  it  is  the 
exercise  of  a  distinct  faculty,  —  in  short,  because  it  is  an  arduous 
work,  it  finds  a  place  among  exercises  which  seem  at  first  sight  to 
be  of  a  more  formal  character. 

This  will  appear  more  clearly  on  consideration  of  the  different 

1  For  what  follows,  see  especially  the  Lenten  sermons  of  St.  Leo.  Also 
a  very  useful  book  by  Canon  Furse,  Helps  to  Holiness. 


428 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


parts  of  prayer.  Thus  prayer  is  in  part  to  be  viewed  as  humble 
acknowledgment  of  an  ideal  unattained,  and  consequent  renewal 
of  desire  in  that  direction.  As  containing,  therefore,  an  element 
of  self-purification,  of  striving  after  deeper  self-knowledge,  prayer 
includes  the  practice  of  self-examination  and  confession  of  sin. 
Regarded  again  as  an  exercise  of  affection  and  intellect,  prayer 
takes  the  form  of  contemplation  and  communion  with  God  as  the 
supreme  object  of  reverence  and  love.  Thus  it  is  evident  that 
prayer  is  a  real  exercise,  well  fitted  to  be  an  education  of  the  soul, 
and  arduous  because  it  implies  an  intense  activity  of  the  entire 
personality.  Even  the  body  has  its  share  in  this  exercise.  It  is 
the  appointed  instrument  of  man’s  spiritual  self-oblation ;  and 
prayer  is  the  acknowledgment  not  only  that  God  is  the  ‘  Father  of 
spirits,’  bat  that  the  body  also  ‘  is  for  the  Lord.’ 1 

Almsgiving  is  placed  by  Christ  among  known  and  admitted 
forms  of  devotion.  Viewed  simply  as  an  action,  it  is  an  obvious 
outlet  of  Christian  love  to  man.2  But  almsgiving  has  another 
aspect,  on  which  early  writers  insist  with  some  fulness.  It  is  a 
means  of  grace,  a  purifying  element  in  the  spiritual  life  of  the 
agent.  It  is  not  often,  perhaps,  that  this  side  of  the  duty  is  ade¬ 
quately  taught.  The  danger  of  ‘  charity  ’  becoming  reckless  or  ill- 
directed  is  real,  and  may  cause  Christian  teachers  to  be  reticent 
on  the  subject.  Yet  this  aspect  of  the  truth  must  not  be  sup¬ 
pressed.  And  after  all,  almsgiving  seems  to  be  specially  men¬ 
tioned  by  our  Lord  as  a  type  of  all  works  of  mercy.3  Love,  in  its 
effort  to  imitate  God,  need  not  be  less  discriminating  than  com¬ 
municative.  The  Fatherly  providence  of  God  is  in  fact  the 
Christian’s  inspiration  and  his  model  ;  and  we  interpret  the  scope 
of  our  Lord’s  commandment  by  study  of  His  life  Who  ‘  for  our 
sakes,  though  rich,  became  poor,’  and  ‘  went  about  doing  good,’ 
and  who  taught  us  in  one  pregnant  sentence  the  mysterious  efficacy 

1  I  Cor.  vi.  13.  See  Cyp.,  de  orat.  Dom.,  iv.,  on  the  part  of  the  body  in 
prayer. 

2  The  particular  shape  which  Almsgiving  will  assume  is  obviously  to  be 
‘  suggested  by  the  special  conditions  ’  of  the  age.  See  a  noble  passage  in 
Ecce  Homo  [ed.  13],  p.  1S4,  pointing  out  the  way  in  which  the  Christian 
spirit  is  likely  to  regard  social  problems.  Cp.  Martensen,  Ethics  (Social), 

р.  132.  This  point  seems  completely  overlooked  in  the  Service  of  Man, 

с.  vii. 

3  Aug.,  Enchir.,  lxxii. :  *  Multa  sunt  genera  eleemosynarum,  quae  cum 
facimus  adjuvamur .’  See  also  Cyp.,  de  Op.  et  Eleem.,  xxv.  Leo,  in  Quad., 
v.  4;  de  Res.,  i.  1  ;  de  Pent.,  i.  6,  etc. ;  Bruce,  Parabolic  Teaching,  etc.,  pp. 
37 1 -37  5,  has  some  striking  remarks. 


xii.  Chr  istiaii  Elk  ics. 


429 


of  almsgiving.1  It  need  not  be  added  that  true  Christian  charity 
is  ever  controlled  by  a  due  sense  of  the  dignity  of  human  nature, 
and  of  the  moral  bond  that  unites  giver  and  receiver. 

Each  of  the  three  exercises  under  consideration  is  conditioned 
and  aided  by  the  other  two.  There  is  a  specially  close  connection, 
however,  between  prayer  and  fasting.  As  a  means  of  self-discip¬ 
line  fasting  has  been  strangely  neglected.  Some  regard  it  as  a 
burdensome  restraint  on  the  will ;  others  as  ‘  unsuited  to  a  spiritual 
religion ;  ’  others  as  unduly  interfering  with  Christian  liberty. 
Chiefly,  perhaps,  the  neglect  of  fasting  is  due  to  inexperience  of 
its  value  as  a  condition  of  spiritual  power,  and  forgetfulness  of  the 
place  assigned  to  it  in  the  teaching  of  our  Lord  and  of  the  early 
Church.  It  is  thus  right  to  insist,  first,  on  its  claim  to  be  a  Divine 
ordinance.2  There  can  be  nothing  superfluous  or  incongruous  in 
a  practice  which  Christ  is  so  careful  to  regulate,  and  which  He 
commends  by  His  own  example.  But  the  practice  of  fasting  jus¬ 
tifies  itself  as  a  point  of  simple  wisdom  in  the  care  of  the  personal 
life.  Christian  holiness  requires,  as  we  have  seen,  an  inward  unity 
of  the  personality,  in  which  no  one  element  has  undue  predomi¬ 
nance.  Bodily  instincts  and  passions,  the  powers  of  thought  and 
imagination,  the  bias  of  temperament,  —  all  have  to  be  brought 
into  subjection  to  the  controlling  will.  And  the  result  is  a  charac¬ 
ter  exhibiting  a  due  balance  of  different  elements ;  a  chastened 
spirit  of  dependence,  spiritualized  affections,  subdued  thoughts, 
sober  judgment,  a  purified  heart,  a  sensitive  conscience,  a  just  fear 
of  unbridled  appetite,  a  true  simplicity.  Such  is  Christ-like  holi¬ 
ness  ;  and  one  great  condition  of  its  attainment  is  fasting,  chiefly 
in  its  literal  sense  of  regular  abstinence  from  food,3  though  its 
forms  may  be  as  varied  as  are  the  avenues  of  sense-impressions. 
The  motive  of  fasting  may  not  be  always  the  same  ;  sometimes  it 
is  the  expression  of  penitential  sorrow  for  sin,  or  of  the  passion  for 
inward  purity ;  sometimes  it  is  used  as  a  special  aid  to  prayer  ; 
sometimes,  again,  it  is  the  sign  of  wearisome  conflict  with  the 
lower  nature  :  in  any  case  it  should  be  an  exercise  of  love.  Thus 
we  regard  fasting,  not  as  mere  soulless,  joyless  abstinence,  but  as  a 
needful  condition  of  purity,  energy,  vigor  of  will,  clearness  of  moral 
insight,  and  capacity  to  impart  spiritual  gifts  to  our  fellow-men. 
‘  Wise  souls/  says  St.  Leo,  ‘  mortify  their  bodies  and  crucify  their 
senses  ;  and  therein  set  before  themselves  God’s  will,  loving  them- 

1  St.  Luke  xi.  41. 

2  Leo,  in  Quad.,  xii.  2:  ‘In  cselestibus  Ecclesiae  disciplinis,  multum  utili- 
tatis  adferunt  diviuitus  instituta  jejunia/  Cp.  Hooker,  bk.  v.  §  72. 

3  Ep.,  ad  Diogn.,  vi. :  Ka.naovpyovfj.ev 73  ctit'iols  nal  tt6t 01s  ■>)  fieArtovTat. 


43°  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 

selves  the  more,  in  proportion  as  for  the  love  of  God  they  love  not 
themselves.' 1 

Our  apology  for  touching  on  topics  so  homely  might  well  be 
that  the  practical  aim  of  ethics  gives  such  points  importance. 
There  can  be  no  excuse  needed,  however,  in  days  of  wide-spread 
luxury  and  of  much  needlessly  imperfect  Christianity,  for  recalling 
and  reasserting  the  necessity  of  the  discipline,  as  well  as  of  the 
moral  precepts,  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 

V.  Christ's  teaching  as  to  the  Consummation  of  God's  Kingdom. 

An  outline  of  Christian  Ethics  would  be  incomplete  without 
some  reference  to  those  eschatological  truths  which  occupy  so 
large  a  place  in  theology,  and  have  so  direct  a  bearing  on  morals. 
We  have  already  touched  on  them  in  connection  with  the  Chris¬ 
tian  doctrine  of  the  Chief  Good.  It  remains  to  consider  them  in 
relation  to  the  perfection  of  man’s  nature. 

The  word  ‘  perfection  ’  reminds  us  that  there  is  a  goal  of  the 
moral  process  exhibited  in  history.  The  visible  order  of  the  uni¬ 
verse  and  the  history  of  mankind  are  verging  towards  a  consum¬ 
mation,  a  catastrophe,  which  relatively  to  us  must  be  regarded  as 
an  end. 

It  is  no  part  of  our  task  to  discuss  the  intermediate  stage  through 
which  the  kingdom  of  God  is  destined  to  pass  :  that  stage  in  which 
there  is  to  be  a  supreme  manifestation  of  moral  evil,  a  culmination 
of  those  tendencies  and  an  outburst  of  those  forces  which  already 
seem  to  threaten  not  the  framework  merely,  but  the  foundations  of 
society.  The  decay  of  Christian  Churches,  the  profound  corrup¬ 
tion  of  social  life,  the  tyranny  of  materialistic  lawlessness,  —  these 
seem  to  be  plainly  foretold  in  Scripture,  and  with  a  purpose  :  that 
of  shielding  men  from  a  moral  despair  which  might  paralyze  their 
efforts,  or  undermine  their  patience,  as  they  witness  the  beginnings 
of  these  ‘  birth-pangs  ’ 2  of  a  new  order.  The  Christian  will  ever 
guard  against  such  a  temper  of  alienation,  or  self-isolation,  from 
the  world,  as  will  lead  him  to  depreciate  the  national,  political, 
or  civil  movements  of  his  time.  For  civilization  is  appointed  to 
reach,  through  whatever  convulsions,  an  ethical  consummation, 
the  prospect  of  which  must  inspire  strength  to  labor,  and  patience 
to  endure. 

1  Serm.  de  Pass.,  xix.  5.  Cp.  Martensen,  Ethics  (Indiv.),  p.  160;  Mar- 
tineau,  Tvpes,  etc.,  ii.  381. 

2  St.  Matt.  xxiv.  8  :  apxh  wSivuv. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


431 


The  last  stage  of  the  kingdom  of  God  is  one  of  glory,  to  be 
exhibited  in  the  perfection  of  the  moral  community.  It  is  for  this 
that  creation  waits  ;  to  this,  as  the  goal  of  history,  that  inspired 
prophecy  points.  Two  revealed  truths  are  intended  to  guide  our 
perception  of  this  prospect. 

In  the  first  place,  the  kingdom  of  God  is  to  be  finally  manifested 
in  its  true  character  :  1  an  event  which  must  involve  momentous 
consequences  for  the  physical  creation.  Scripture  sometimes 
speaks  as  if  beneath  the  outer  semblance  of  visible  nature  there 
lay  concealed  an  inner  glory,  destined,  when  the  semblance 
passes,  to  shine  forth  in  full  radiance  and  splendor.2  The  truth  is 
thus  symbolically  conveyed,  that  since  man  is  the  crown  and  lord 
of  the  physical  universe,  his  final  emancipation  will  carry  with  it  a 
corresponding  change  in  his  outward  environment.  But  this  con¬ 
summation,  no  less  than  the  progressive  movement  of  mankind 
towards  it,  is  due  to  the  deliberate  working  and  intervention  in 
history  of  God  Himself.  Naturalism  points  to  a  precarious  pros¬ 
pect  of  human  happiness  in  the  future,  as  contingent  upon  ‘  a 
perfect  adjustment  of  society.’ 3  Christianity  does  not  look  to  any 
improvement  in  material  conditions,  nor  to  any  social  process,  as 
likely  to  bring  about  an  ideal  state  of  humanity.  Neither  the 
physical  universe,  nor  man  himself,  can  attain  to  the  goal  of  their 
development,  or  to  the  perfection  of  their  nature,  apart  from  God.4 

Again,  the  kingdom  of  God  is  to  be  purified  through  judgment. 
The  exact  nature  of  this  judgment  it  is  impossible  for  thought  to 
anticipate.  But  the  teaching  of  revelation  is  at  least  so  explicit  as 
to  discredit  any  conception  of  the  judgment  which  would  confine 
its  operation  to  this  present  scene,  or  restrict  its  meaning  to  any 
merely  natural  process.  The  judgment  is,  in  fact,  appointed  for  a 
definite  hour,  and  is  prefigured  in  definite  historical  catastrophes. 
It  will  be  parallel  to,  but  transcending,  those  manifestations  of 
Divine  power  in  history  which  mankind  has  already  experienced. 
And  the  effect  of  this  final  intervention  will  be  to  put  an  end  to 
that  mixed  condition  of  human  things  which  it  is  our  tendency  to 
accept  and  assume  as  inevitable  and  perpetual.  Out  of  God’s 
kingdom  will  be  gathered  ‘  all  things  that  offend ;  ’  and  the  col¬ 
lective  mass  of  humanity  will  be,  with  whatever  gradations  in  the 
stage  of  perfection  attained  by  each  individual,  a  ‘  congregation  of 
saints.’ 5  The  principle  of  Good  will  so  achieve  its  final  triumph. 

When  we  further  inquire,  as  we  are  impelled  to  do,  what  will  be 

1  Rom.  viii.  19.  2  1  Cor.  vii.  31  ;  t  St.  John  ii.  17,  etc. 

3  Cp.  The  Ethics  of  Socialism,  by  E.  Belfort  Bax,  p.  19. 

4  Cp.  Bern.,  de  Consid.,  v  11.  6  Ps.  cxlix.  1. 


43  2 


The  Religion  of  the  Incar??  at  ion. 

the  extent  of  this  final  triumph,  we  are  met  by  the  fact  of  our  own 
ignorance,  and  of  Christ’s  reserve.  His  simple,  severe  statements 
seem  intended  to  discourage  fruitless  speculation.  We  are  thrown 
back  in  this,  as  in  other  perplexities,  on  our  unfailing  assurance 
of  God’s  character,  and  on  the  faint  analogies  furnished  by  the 
present  order  of  things. 

The  Gospel  speaks  of  a  righteous  dominion,  the  sphere  of  which 
is  to  be  without  limit.  We  read  of  a  gathering  into  the  kingdom 
of  all  that  is  in  true  harmony  with  its  purpose.  We  find  warrant 
for  the  belief  in  an  intermediate  state  in  which  imperfect  character 
may  be  developed,  ignorance  enlightened,  sin  chastened,  desire 
purified.  And  yet  we  are  assured  that  the  consequences  of  action 
and  choice  abide,  and  are  eternal  in  their  issue  ;  and  we  know  that 
impenitence  must  finally,  and  under  awful  conditions,  separate  the 
soul  from  God.  But  we  have  not  enough  for  a  coherent  system. 
All  that  we  can  affirm  is  that  the  victory  of  Good  seems  to  demand 
the  preservation  of  all  that  has  not  wilfully  set  itself  in  antagonism  to 
Divine  Love,  Holiness,  and  Power.  We  cannot  think  that  helpless 
ignorance,  or  inevitable  poverty  of  character  will  finally  sever  a 
human  soul  from  God.  Analogy  suggests  that  there  will  be  scope 
in  a  future  dispensation  for  the  healing  ministries  and  inventive 
service  of  Love.  So  again,  Scripture  does  not  expressly  teach  that 
the  lost  will  forever  be  in  a  state  of  defiance  and  rebellion.  Even 
in  the  awful  state  of  final  severance  from  the  Divine  presence  there 
is  room  for  assent,  order,  acceptance  of  penalty ;  and  so  far,  evil ' 
in  the  sense  of  the  will  antagonistic  to  God’s  righteous  Law,  may 
have  ceased  to  exist.  Truth  will  have  prevailed ;  and  all  orders  of 
intelligent  creatures  will  render  it  homage.  The  final  issue  will  be 
seen,  and  the  justice  confessed,  of  all  those  ‘  ways  ’  of  God  which 
are  ‘unsearchable  and  past  finding  out.’  In  a  word,  there  will  be 
a  complete  manifestation  of  supreme  Holiness  and  Love  ;  of  Him 
whose  ‘  mercy  is  over  all  His  works,’  and  Who  will  continue  to  stand 
in  direct  relation  to  every  soul  that  He  has  made,  revealing  Him¬ 
self  to  each  either  as  loving  Father  or  as  righteous  Judge.1 

It  must  however  be  added  that  what  is  called  ‘  Universalism  ’  finds 
no  support  either  in  the  solemn  statements  of  Jesus  Christ  or  in 
the  analogy  of  nature.  Man’s  very  power  of  choice  implies  the 
possibility  of  a  sinful  state  admitting  neither  of  repentance  nor  of 
remedy ;  not  of  repentance,  —  for  character,  growing  by  separate 
acts  of  choice,  may  become  fixed  and  hardened  in  its  persistent 

1  See  the  Bp.  of  Exeter’s  Primary  Charge  on  this  subject.  On  the  princi¬ 
ple  involved  in  this  ‘  dual  classification/  see  an  impressive  passage  in  Mar- 
tineau,  Types,  etc  ii  65-69. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics . 


433 


refusal  of  the  good ;  not  of  remedy,  —  for,  as  even  the  Greek 
moralist,  with  all  his  belief  in  the  moulding  power  of  law,  confesses, 
there  is  a  degree  of  moral  perversion  *  incurable,’  —  that,  namely, 
which  ensues  when  sin  has  finally  destroyed,  the  faculties  to  which 
moral  appeal  is  possible  :  desire,  fear,  hope,  affection,  the  sense  of 
shame. 

With  the  end  of  history  corresponds  that  of  the  individual  man. 
The  ultimate  perfection  of  human  character  is  not  only  regarded  as 
possible  in  Scripture,  but  is  suggested  by  analogy ; 1  and  of  the 
conditions  of  perfected  human  nature  we  are  enabled  to  form  some 
idea,  partly  by  our  knowledge  of  angelic  beings,  partly  by  a  study 
of  our  Lord’s  Humanity  in  its  risen  state.2 

i.  Thus  human  personality,  in  its  perfected  form,  implies  a  state 
of  harmony.  As  each  element  in  human  nature  will  be  preserved 
in  its  appropriate  condition,  so  each  will  fulfil  its  rightful  function.3 
The  relation  between  body  and  spirit  will  be  that  which  is  ethically 
the  highest  conceivable.  In  man  will  be  represented,  as  in  a 
microcosm,  a  state  of  being  in  which  the  first  creation  has  been 
appropriated  by,  and  made  the  organ  of  the  Divine  Spirit.4  The 
material  body  will  become  one  perfectly  subservient  to.  and  ex¬ 
pressive  of,  the  free  movements  of  a  puiified  spirit.5  And  to  this 
state  of  personality  will  belong  a  final  harmony  between  moral  law 
and  freedom.  Human  beings  will  have  become  (  partakers  of  the 
Divine  Nature,’  so  far  as  to  experience  in  themselves  the  union  of 
liberty,  holiness,  and  love  :  — 

‘  Indulging  every  instinct  of  the  soul 
There  where  law,  life,  joy,  impulse,  are  one  thing.’6 

ii.  Perfection  further  implies  a  state  of  glory ;  a  word  which, 
whether  used  of  Christ  Himself  or  of  His  followers,  seems  in  the 
New  Testament  to  mean  the  outward  manifestation  of  a  holy 

1  2  Cor.  v.  5  ;  Col.  i.  28 ;  Butler,  Analog}7,  i.  c.  5. 

2  St.  Luke  xx.  36  :  IcrayyeAoL  .  .  .  Kal  vlot  el(TLV  6eov  t t)s  dvaardcrews  viol 
ovres.  Cp.  Leo.  Magn.,  Serm.  in  Res.  Dom.  i.  c.  4. 

3  Vine.  Lirin.,  Common.,  c.  xiii. :  ‘  Unoquoque  hominum  sine  fine  victuro, 
in  unoquoque  hominum  sine  fine  necessario  utriusque  substantiae  differentia 
permanebit/ 

4  Dorner,  System,  etc.,  §  2. 

5  Aug.,  de  Fid.  et  Symb.,  xiii.  :  ‘  Spirituale  corpus  intelligitur  quod  ita 
spiritui  subditum  est,  ut  caelesti  habitationi  conveniat.’  The  Resurrection  of 
the  flesh  is  thus  seen  to  have  vital  relation  to  the  idea  of  moral  perfection. 
Cp.  Thom.  Aquin.,  Summa,  i.  iiae.  Qu.  iv.  Art.  6-8. 

6  Iren.,  iv.  28,  2  :  ‘  Hi  semper  percipiunt  regnum,  et  proficiunt.’  Pet. 
Lomb.,  Sent.,  ii.  xxv.  7 :  ‘  Post  confirmationem  vero.  .  .  nec  vinci  poterit  nec 
premi  [homo] ;  et  tunc  habebit  non  posse  peccare ’ 

28 


434 


The  Religioii  of  the  Incarnation . 


character.  The  gradual  assimilation  to  God,  which  is  the  law  of 
true  human  development  on  earth,  is  the  law  of  an  unending 
progress.  But  in  the  perfect  state,  character  will  find  due  splen¬ 
dor  of  outward  expression.  Man’s  bodily  frame  will  pass  through 
successive  stages  ‘  from  glory  to  glory/  to  a  semblance  faithfully 
reflecting  the  inward  supernatural  life.1  And  in  the  marvellous 
union  of  outward  with  inward  re-creation  consists  the  ‘  glory/  of 
which  human  nature  is  capable. 

iii.  Perfection  is  consummated  by  blessedness.  The  conception 
of  bliss  as  transcending  happiness  (evSa Ljuovia)  is  peculiar  to  Chris¬ 
tian  Ethics.  Happiness  is  a  word  of  earth,  and  represents  a  good 
which  may  be  attained  independently  of  life  in  God.  Bliss  is 
inseparable  from  a  living  relation  to  God.  It  implies  union  with 
God. 

But  though  it  is  true  that  ‘  man  possesses  the  plenitude  of  his 
perfection  in  God/  the  analogy  of  the  present  dispensation  points 
to  a  further  element  in  ‘  blessedness/  namely,  that  of  fellowship  in 
a  moral  community :  the  redeemed  ‘  have  fellowship  one  with 
another  ’  in  an  ‘  indissoluble  life.’ 2  In  fact  the  perfection  of  the 
individual,  according  to  God’s  separate  ideal  for  each,  demands 
that  of  the  moral  community.  Blessedness  thus  means  that  state 
wherein,  by  a  society  of  renewed  personal  beings,  ‘  the  Highest 
Good  is  loved  and  enjoyed.’ 3 

This  community  of  free  and  perfected  beings,  with  God  as  its 
Centre,  is  the  revealed  ethical  consummation  of  our  race.  And 
as  the  manifestation  of  God’s  kingdom  is  to  Christians  the  supreme 
object  of  aspiration,  and  the  highest  matter  of  prayer,  so  the  effort 
to  advance  and  extend  its  sphere  is  the  worthiest  task  that  can  be 
embraced  by  the  will.  The  conception  of  such  a  kingdom,  to  be 
made  actual  through  the  exertion  of  human  faculties  co-operating 
with  the  invincible  energy  of  the  Divine  will,  is  the  greatest 
thought  that  ever  enriched  mankind.  In  the  attempt  to  further 
the  limits,  or  promote  the  welfare  of  this  kingdom,  man  finds  his 
truest  happiness,  and  his  noblest  field  of  activity.  For  he  is 
engaged  in  the  same  work  as  God  Himself : 4  he  has  the  same 
interest  in  its  accomplishment.  He  has  found  the  absolutely  good 
sphere  of  effort  and  desire  ;  all  else  in  which  men  busy  themselves 
can  only  be  ethically  good  in  proportion  as  it  bears  on,  or  hastens 
the  approach  of,  that  f  one  far-off  Divine  event.’ 

1  St.  Matt.  xiii.  43  ;  2  Cor.  iii.  18  ;  1  St.  John  iii.  2. 

2  1  St.  John  i.  3-7  ;  Heb.  vii.  16 ;  Westcott,  Hist.  Faith,  p.  147. 

3  Aug.,  de  mor.  Eccl.,  iv.  [‘Beata  vita,]  cum  id  quod  est  hominis  optimum, 
amatur  et  habetur.’ 

4  epya  9eov,  St.  John  vi  28.  Cp.  St.  Matt.  vi.  33. 


xii.  Christian  Ethics. 


435 


VI.  Conclusion. 

It  is  our  Lord’s  method  to  present  to  men  an  ideal,  before  He 
descends  to  the  requirements  of  practical  life.  The  Sermon  on 
the  Mount  describes  the  life  of  ‘  blessedness  ’  before  it  treats  of 
duty ;  and  from  duty,  passes  to  the  means  of  holiness.  Such  an 
example  suggests  one  or  two  concluding  reflections. 

First  we  may  recall  the  true  bearing  of  a  methodical  inquiry  into 
Christian  Ethics.  The  kingdom  of  God  stands  in  contrast  with, 
but  in  special  relation  to,  all  modes  and  products  of  social  activity. 
It  makes  use  of  all  the  material  which  human  life  offers,  or  human 
faculties  supply,  so  far  as  it  is  capable  of  serving  a  Divine  purpose, 
or  revealing  any  aspect  of  the  Divine  Life.  For  that  Life  having 
once  for  all  intervened  in  history,  continues  ever  to  appropriate 
and  hallow  all  that  comes  within  the  wide  range  of  Its  outflow ; 
Education,  Criticism,  Science,  Art ;  Industry,  Wealth  ;  Law,  Polity, 
—  all  these  are  capable  of  becoming  ethical  forces,  of  ministering 
to  man’s  true  end,  of  contributing  something  to  the  highest  life. 
Into  the  Holy  City  the  kings  of  the  earth  bring  their  glory  and 
honor :  and  to  a  Christian  Church  are  addressed  the  far-reaching 
words,  ‘All  things  are  yours.’ 1 

There  is  in  fact  a  ‘  world-appropriating  ’  element  in  Christianity, 
as  the  ethical  religion ;  and  it  is  essential  that  the  significance  of 
this  fact  should  be  grasped,  if  Christian  morality  is  to  be  rightly 
apprehended,  or  fairly  presented  in  systematic  form. 

Further,  in  advancing  a  claim  to  mould  and  regenerate  human 
society,  the  Christian  Church  can  only  continue  to  rely  on  her  tra¬ 
ditional  instrument, —  the  re-creation  of  individual  character.  The 
social  movements  which  an  enlightened  Christian  judgment 
approves,  are  those  gradual  and  irresistible  changes  which  result 
from  the  slowly  reached  apprehension  of  some  neglected  moral 
truth,  as  it  gradually  commends  itself  to  individual  consciences. 
And  such  movements  are  to  be  judged  as  they  display,  or  bear 
upon,  character.  If,  for  example,  a  Christian  mistrusts  the  extrava¬ 
gant  schemes  of  some  forms  of  Socialism, —  it  is  not  because  he  is 
insensible  to  the  wrongs  and  miseries  which  suggest  a  violent  rem¬ 
edy,  but  because  all  such  sweeping  proposals  would  merge  the 
individual  life,  would  repress  and  mar  the  fulness  of  that  organized 
social  life  which  gains  elements  of  richness  and  diversity  from  the 
free  play  of  individuality. 


1  i  Cor.  iii .  22. 


436 


The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation. 


The  study  of  ideals  will  also  have  suggested  the  relation  which 
the  Church  bears  to  modern  life.  The  Church,  we  have  seen,  is 
the  school  of  human  character ;  the  nurse,  therefore,  of  such  civil 
and  social  virtues  as  give  stability  to  human  institutions.  In  her 
midst,  Divine  forces  are  really  and  manifestly  at  work,  tending  to 
bring  about  the  regeneration  of  mankind.  And  in  connection 
with  this  view  of  the  Church,  we  need  to  observe  the  power  of 
character;  the  practical  ‘supremacy  of  goodness,’  or  at  least  its 
tendency  to  be  supreme ;  its  capacity  to  control  and  modify  the 
pressure  of  circumstance.  A  condition  of  all  true  thinking  about 
the  social  future  will  surely  be  a  just  estimate  of  character  as  a 
social  and  industrial  force  ;  it  is  a  growing  sense  of  this  truth  that 
is  doing  much  to  revolutionize  our  economic  theories.  We  are 
learning,  perhaps,  that  manfulness,  mercy,  self-control,  pity,  are 
among  the  forces  which  must  be  taken  into  account  by  social 
science. 

And  if  the  Church  is  a  gift  of  God  to  mankind,  and  there  be 
but  one  end  of  all  His  gifts,  namely,  the  restoration  of  His  image 
in  man,  we  must  believe  that  the  fairest  fruits  of  Christianity,  and 
the  many-sided  fulness  of  Christ-like  character,  can  appear  only  in 
those  who  live  loyal  to  the  moral  discipline  of  the  Church,  who 
are  ruled  by  her  wisdom,  chastened  by  awe  of  her  beauty,  pene¬ 
trated  by  her  spirit.  The  kingdom  of  God  is  more  —  infinitely 
more  —  than  an  ideal  condition  of  human  society  ;  but  we  know  that 
the  kingdom,  even  in  this  limited  sense  of  the  word,  will  be  the  heri¬ 
tage  only  of  a  nation  ‘  bringing  forth  the  fruits  thereof.’ 


APPENDIX  ON  SOME  ASPECTS  OF  CHRISTIAN 

DUTY. 


The  conception  of  morality  as  a  system  of  positive  Divine  Law, 
and  the  ‘  juridical  method  ’  which  is  said  to  mark  early  Christian 
writers  on  ethics,1  is  perhaps  attributable  to  the  growth  of  an  im¬ 
perial  spirit  in  the  Church  when  she  found  herself  confronted  with 
the  task  of  reducing  to  order  the  social  chaos  into  which  the  fall  of 
the  Empire  plunged  Europe.  St.  Leo  may  be  said  to  embody  this 
spirit  in  a  majestic  personal  form.  The  mark  of  Roman  authority 
rests  on  the  ordinances  of  the  Church  of  this  period.  It  may  be  that 
her  rules  of  duty  wear  something  of  the  aspect  of  a  fixed,  unvarying 
code.  The  moral  problems  with  which  she  has  to  deal  are  compara¬ 
tively  simple ;  they  admit  of  clear,  concise  treatment,  in  accordance 
with  a  fixed  system  of  discipline  ;  sharp  distinctions  are  possible  : 
and  the  Gospel  thus  presents  to  the  world  the  features  of  an  external 
Law. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  widely  different  conditions  seem  now  to  demand 
a  definite  system  of  Christian  duty,  —  a  study  of  ‘special’  or  ‘applied 
ethics.’  The  main  feature  of  modern  life  is  not  social  disorganization, 
but  complexity  of  relationships;  and  although  in  the  abstract  no  such 
thing  is  possible  as  a  ‘conflict  of  duties;  ’  yet  it  is  clear  that  duty  is 
not  always  simple,  or  obvious.  We  need  in  fact  something  like  a 
system  of  casuistry;  of  ethics  applied  to  novel  spheres,  and  special 
points  of  obligation.  It  is  indeed  reasonable  to  expect  that  as  civili¬ 
zation  advances,  and  new  realms  open  up  which  the  Christian  spirit 
must  appropriate,  the  Law  of  duty  will  be  enriched  ;  there  will  be 
expansion  of  its  content  :  e.  g.  the  development  of  Industry  makes 
desirable  the  formulation  of  the  ‘  Ethics  of  Labor;  ’  the  rise  of  a  spe¬ 
cial  class  may  raise  the  question  whether  ‘  class  virtues  ’  are  to  be 
recognized,  and  how  they  are  to  be  estimated,  by  Ethics.2 

In  this  appendix  some  purpose  may  be  served  by  noticing  a  few 
pressing  moral  problems  of  our  time ;  some  spheres  of  duty  asr  to 
which  guidance  or  development  of  principles  seems  called  for. 

i.  In  the  sphere  of  self-regarding  duty  a  point  which  needs  atten¬ 
tion  is  the  truth  of  personal  responsibility.  There  are  influences  at 
work  which  threaten  the  sense  of  accountability,  whether  for  conduct 
or  belief.  There  are  of  course  speculative  difficulties  surrounding 
the  question  of  freedom ;  there  is  wide  misconception  of  its  true 

1  Sidgwick,  Outlines,  etc.,  p.  10S. 

2  These  are  perhaps  implied  in  St.  Luke  iii.  10-14. 


43^  The  Religion  of  the  Incarnation . 

meaning ;  but  it  needs  to  be  clearly  taught,  that  granted  all  limita¬ 
tions  of  the  power  of  choice,  moral  responsibility  remains  for  the 
use  of  the  character,  as  of  the  property,  which  a  man  inherits.1  A 
man’s  moral  constitution,  rigidly  defined  though  it  be  by  heredity, 
is  yet  his  ‘heritage,’  his  natural  endowment,  for  the  right  direction 
of  which  he  is  responsible.  The  weak  sense  of  this  plain  fact  is 
noticeable  in  the  lax  and  indulgent  tone  often  used  respecting  crim¬ 
inals.  ‘To  some  of  us,’  it  has  been  justly  said,  ‘the  individual  is 
always  innocent,  and  society  always  guilty.’2  The  degree  of  guilt, 
however,  may  be  minimized  ( e.g .  by  the  plea  of  ignorance),  while  the 
fact  of  it  remains. 

In  this  connection  statistics  of  crime  have  a  value  which  needs  to 
be  estimated.  Do  they  point  to  conditions  of  society  which  must  be 
faced  as  unalterable  ?  or  do  they  not  rather  usefully  indicate  the 
proper  channels  into  which  the  stream  of  social  energy  should  be 
directed  ? 

Again,  in  the  matter  of  personal  belief  it  is  often  assumed  that 
there  is  no  responsibility.  The  question,  however,  for  each  indi¬ 
vidual,  if  rightly  stated,  is  simply  this  :  ‘  What  has  been  my  attitude 
towards  that  which  has  presented  itself  to  me  as  truth  ?  ’  3 

Another  point  of  importance  is  the  moral  culture  of  Imagination , 
in  relation  chiefly  to  aesthetic  recreation  in  its  different  forms,  the 
Theatre,  the  pursuit  of  Art,  the  reading  of  Fiction.  We  are  learning 
by  serious  experience  the  enormous  power  of  fancy  to  kindle  passion, 
and  to  color  human  actions.  In  view  of  the  spread  of  depraving  liter¬ 
ature,  energetic  assertion  of  duty  towards  this  department  of  person¬ 
ality  is  needed.  Such  duty  seems  to  be  recognized  in  Phil.  iv.  8. 

2.  Passing  to  the  sphere  of  family  obligations,  it  is  natural  to 
remark  on  the  break-up  of  family  life  which  is  so  common  a  conse¬ 
quence  of  highly-developed  industry.  The  employment  of  women  in 
factories,  etc.,  tends  to  make  them  unfit  for  domestic  duties  ;  while 
that  of  children  encourages  a  spirit  of  independence  which  is  not 
without  social  danger;  thus  not  only  the  sense  of  parental  duty,  but 
the  respect  for  parental  authority,  is  impaired.  Christians  are  bound 
to  discountenance,  or  at  least  to  counteract,  this  state  of  things  so  far 
as  it  interferes  with  the  rudiments  of  moral  discipline. 

The  pressing  need  of  our  day,  however,  would  appear  to  be  some 
clear  teaching  on  the  subject  of  marriage.  There  are  different  as¬ 
pects  of  the  marriage  contract  recognized  in  Scripture.  But  Chris¬ 
tianity  can  make  no  terms  with  those  theories  which  have  borne  fruit 
in  lax  legislation  on  divorce,  with  all  its  mischievous  results.  Mar¬ 
riage,  according  to  the  Christian  view,  is  a  serious  vocation,  with  its 
own  sacred  duties,  and  special  consecration.  Improvident  marriage 
is  as  immoral  from  a  Christian  as  from  an  anti-Christian  point  of 
view.4  Ethical  considerations  ought  to  guide  or  restrict  the  intention 

1  Cp.  Mr.  Cotter  Morison,  Service  of  Man,  p.  214. 

2  R.  W.  Dale,  Cont.  Rev.,  May,  18S9  Consider  St.  Luke  xxiii.  34. 

8  See  Dean  Church,  Human  Life  and  its  Conditions,  Serm.  Ill  init. 

4  See  Service  of  Man,  pref.  xxv.  foil. 


Appendix, 


43  9 


to  marry;  and  with  regard  to  the  question  of  population,  Christianity 
condemns  any  theory  which  offers  a  substitute  for  rational  self- 
restraint.  The  true  end  of  marriage,  again,  is  something  higher  than 
‘  happiness  ;  ’  it  is  appointed  for  the  mutual  enrichment  of  personality, 
mutual  freedom  to  fulfil  the  true  ideal  of  human  life.  The  whole 
subject  has  indeed  become  involved  in  difficulties  which  cannot  be 
encountered  by  any  mere  statement  of  principles.  There  is  no  doubt, 
however,  of  the  end  which  the  Christian  treatment  of  this  point  must 
keep  in  view. 

3.  As  to  the  social  sphere  generally,  we  begin  by  remarking  that, 
from  the  Christian  standpoint,  every  transaction  between  man  and 
man  is  to  be  regarded  as  personal ,  and  therefore  ethical.  The  most 
significant  fact  perhaps  of  our  time  is  the  process  of  transition  from 
(so-called)  political  to  ethical  economics.  To  reason  rightly  on  social 
problems  we  must  ever  have  regard  to  personality.  For  ethical  pur¬ 
poses  the  abstract  terms  Capital,  Labor,  Production,  Wealth,  etc., 
must  be  replaced  by  perso?ial  terms,  Employer,  Employd,  Producer, 
Man  of  Wealth,  etc.  Our  problem  is  how  to  supersede  the  technical 
and  legal  relation  by  the  personal.1 

This  being  our  fundamental  point  of  view,  we  find  that  ethics  will 
treat  equally  of  rights  and  duties.  A  Christian  theory  of  rights  is 
required.  The  prevailing  view  of  them  is  individualistic.  It  is 
forgotten  that  the  rights  of  one  man  have  their  ground  in  the  obliga¬ 
tions  of  another ;  they  are  limited  by  the  claims  of  other  personal¬ 
ities  on  our  own;  ‘right’  is,  in  fact,  a  condition  making  possible  the 
fulfilment  of  duty.  It  is  thus  a  matter  of  Christian  concern  (to  sug¬ 
gest  mere  examples)  that  workers  should  attain  to  the  possibility  of 
free  self-development:  healthy  conditions  of  work,  the  enjoyment  of 
domestic  life,  security  of  maintenance,  perhaps  permanence  of  con¬ 
tract,  opportunities  of  recreation  and  culture,  —  everything,  in  fact, 
which  will  give  them  fair  chance  of  healthful  and  worthy  human  life. 
Christianity  can  be  content  with  nothing  short  of  this. 

On  the  other  hand  duties  call  for  notice.  Modern  capitalists  form 
a  class  whose  responsibilities  it  is  difficult  adequately  to  measure. 
The  general  principle,  however,  is  easily  repeated  :  that  it  is  the  duty 
of  the  wealthy,  or  those  who  employ  workers,  to  respect  the  person¬ 
ality  of  their  employes,  to  treat  them  not  as  machines,  but  as  men. 
Thomas  Carlyle  well  describes  the  aim  that  should  guide  this  influ¬ 
ential  class  :  ‘  to  be  a  noble  master  among  noble  workers,  the  first 
ambition  :  to  be  a  rich  master,  only  the  second.’ 

Industrial  development  indeed  brings  into  prominence  many  ques¬ 
tions  of  duty  and  right,  which  can  be  solved  only  by  deeper  ap¬ 
prehension  of  the  Christian  standpoint :  and  of  ‘  morality  as  an 

1  See  Ingram,  Pres.  Condition  and  Prospects  of  Pol.  Economy,  p.  18: 
‘  By  habitually  regarding  labor  from  the  abstract  point  of  view,  and  over¬ 
looking  the  personality  of  the  laborer,  economists  are  led  to  leave  out  of 
account  some  of  the  considerations  which  most  seriously  affect  the  condition 
of  the  working  man,’  etc.  Cp.  Carlyle,  Past  and  Present,  the  last  book. 


440 


The  Religion  of  the  hicarnation. 

industrial  force:’1  for  the  ties  which  bind  men  in  the  relation  of 
brotherhood  and  sonhood  are  the  noblest  and  strongest. 

The  duties  of  a  state  are  matters  of  controversy,  and  open  a  field 
not  lightly  to  be  entered.  It  is  clear,  however,  that  adequate  pressure 
can  only  be  brought  to  bear  on  governing  classes  by  an  educated 
public  opinion,  rather  we  should  say  an  enlightened  moral  sense,  in 
the  community.  It  is  impossible  to  foresee  the  results  that  might 
ensue  from  the  growth  of  moral  opinion  on  such  points  as  the  state 
regulation  of  vice,  the  just  causes  of  war,  the  restriction  of  the  hours 
of  labor,  the  treatment  of  semi-civilized  dependencies,  the  true  lines 
to  be  followed  by  education.  It  is  this  tremendous  potency  of  public 
opinion  that  points  to  the  great  need  of  modern  democracy  :  the  edu¬ 
cation,  namely,  of  feeling  and  character;  the  cultivation  of  reverence 
and  the  faculty  of  admiration,  of  self-control  and  sobriety  in  judgment 
and  thought.  How  far  a  merely  intellectual  training  will  produce  this 
character  can  scarcely  be  a  matter  of  controversy.  A  vast  field  of 
inquiry  and  study  is  thus  evidently  open  to  economic  moralists  :  and 
it  has  been  opportunely  suggested  that  the  effort  to  study,  ‘  in  the 
light  of  the  revealed  will  of  God,  the  intricate  problems  of  society,’ 
might  be  a  common  bond  between  different  sections  of  Christendom, 
and  might  promote  that  unity  of  God's  Church,  which  is  the  true 
condition  of  effectual  social  reform.2 

4.  In  the  Church,  or  moral  community  which  embraces  and  leavens 
the  state,  special  points  of  duty  arise  :  e.  g.  respecting  the  limits  of 
the  Church’s  self-adaptation  to  the  tendencies  of  the  age,  and  her 
relation  to  the  anti-Christian  principle  in  society.  Hence  arise  diffi¬ 
cult  questions  as  to  the  true  bases  of  Toleration,  and  of  submission 
to  the  civil  power.  We  may  be  sure  that  principles  of  action  and 
thought  can  be  reached  only  by  closer  study  of  Christ’s  wrords  in  rela¬ 
tion  to  modern  life,3  as  the  practical  instinct  of  the  Church  has  inter¬ 
preted  them.  A  similar  problem  is  raised  by  the  advance  of  Science 
and  Criticism.  Christians  are  charged  with  being  behind  scientific 
men  in  their  apprehension  of  ‘the  morals  of  assent.’4  Whatever 
truth  there  is  in  such  a  reproach,  it  at  least  utters  a  note  of  warning. 

5.  Once  more,  if  we  consider  the  non-personal  realm  with  which 
man  is  brought  in  contact,  we  must  face  the  problem  of  duties  towards 
the  lower  animals.  We  have  seen  that  such  duties  have  a  ground  in 
reason :  but  their  nature  and  extent  are  not  well  defined.  It  is  im¬ 
portant  to  study  our  Lord’s  attitude  towards  nature,  for  which  He 
uniformly  exhibits,  especially  in  His  parables  and  miracles,  such 
feeling  and  love.  The  practice  of  vivisection,  for  example,  raises  a 
question  as  to  the  limits  of  the  dominium  natures  committed  to  man ; 

1  See  the  chapter  with  this  title  in  T.  E.  Brown,  Studies  in  Modern  Social¬ 
ism  and  Labor  Problems,  c.  xii. 

2  See  an  Article  on  ‘Christian  Union/  by  Earl  Nelson,  Cont.  Rev.,  Feb. 
1889. 

3  See  Martensen,  Ethics  (Ind.),  §  93.  Dean  Church,  Gifts  of  Civilization, 
Serm.  II. 

4  Mr.  Huxley  in  Nineteenth  Century  for  Nov.  1887. 


Appendix.  441 

and  his  right  to  employ  creaturely  life  as  a  means.  There  is  of  course 
a  practice  of  vivisection  which  is  utterly  immoral :  as  when  it  is 
prompted  by  mere  pleasure  in  experimenting,  or  by  idle  curiosity ; 
or  is  carried  on  without  strict  intention  and  reasonable  prospect  of 
meeting  a  particular  need. 

Within  the  limits  of  an  essay  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  do  more 
than  raise  such  questions  as  the  foregoing  ;  we  perhaps  best  display 
a  sense  of  their  gravity  by  leaving  them  as  suggestions  for  systematic 
discussion.  For  it  has  been  justly  observed  with  regard  to  ethical 
problems  that  ‘the  actual  solution  is  itself  an  art,  a  gift  which  cannot 
be  taught.’ 


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